


dying is just a kind of hunger (come care about me)

by danverspotsticker



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, with a latent and unwritten happy ending, with many ships and characters that will be tagged as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danverspotsticker/pseuds/danverspotsticker
Summary: buffy summers is nearly out. she's eighteen, she'll never have to attend another reaping where she can get picked again if she just makes it through this one. but fate has other plans. with a fellow tribute who has no care whether he lives or dies, two mentors, one who is actually several months younger than her and another who doesn't seem to truly care about anything, and an escort with misplaced optimism, she'll fight to make it back to her family.(on hiatus, but it will be completed eventually)
Relationships: Angel/Buffy Summers, Daniel "Oz" Osbourne & Willow Rosenberg, Jenny Calendar/Rupert Giles, Tara Maclay/Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris & Buffy Summers, Xander Harris & Willow Rosenberg
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	1. coming of age is a bloody sound

**Author's Note:**

> hehehe sometimes you write a hunger games au to cope  
> (shout out to penny and sparrow for making bomb ass music with lyrics that inspired the titles of this fic and chapters)

It’s already light out when Buffy wakes up. On any other day it would be an odd occurrence since she’s gotten used to waking up to the darkness that comes with early mornings and the cold and lanky limbs of her younger sister. Today Dawn must've beaten her in waking up, an anxious mind keeping her up. Buffy doesn’t blame her, assuming the cause was the same one that kept her asleep. 

The Reaping.

Buffy stretches as she blinks away the brightness of the room. Looking to the rickety dresser that occupies one corner of the room, Buffy sees Dawn. She’s staring into the mirror hanging above it, focusing on anything but what this day will later bring, as she roughly rips a comb through the tangled ends of her long hair. Buffy lays in bed still, her age paralyzing her in her spot. Her eyes still heavy, contemplate returning to sleep. As she lets herself succumb to the lure of sleep, she is denied by a loud demand. Her eyes open and inches away from her nose, in the space usually occupied by Dawn’s body, is a mound of black and white fur. Dawn’s cat, Tricks. 

Buffy was the one who actually found her and brought her home. They’d crossed paths the first time near the back fence of the Victor’s Village. Buffy had seen the collar around her neck then and continued her walk but as the weeks passed and they met everyday as Buffy trekked back from Twelve’s senior school, she began to worry about this cat who became worse off with every passing day. Eventually the cat’s whining cries had broken down Buffy’s aversion and ended with Buffy coming home that day with a ball of matted fur and dirt that Dawn had lovingly taken in and cleaned as well as she could. 

The tuxedo cat’s nose only moves closer to Buffy as she scowls at the cat. It’s not that she necessarily dislikes Tricks. It’s just that, today especially, she could do without the cat’s pestering. Still, Buffy gets out of the bed, careful not to knock Tricks onto the floor as she does. Rolling her shoulders, she comes to stand behind Dawn in the mirror and holds out her hand for the comb. Dawn rolls her eyes, “I  _ am  _ old enough to comb my own hair, y’know.”

Buffy looks at her sister in the mirror, so young and still so much older than it feels like she should be. Dawn smiles at her despite the annoyed tone. Buffy decides to tease her, “Oh, can you? Because the rat’s nest building on the back of your head says otherwise. I’m surprised that Tricks hasn’t gone hunting in it yet.”

Dawn huffs out a breath, “Funny.”

Buffy grins, “Seriously, stop leaving ponytails in when you go to bed, dummy. This is very easily avoidable.”

Buffy presses against the roots of Dawn’s hair with a hand as she pulls the comb through the knots. Dawn jerks her head away, “Ow!”

Buffy keeps pulling through anyway. “You’re fine.”

Dawn scoffs. Buffy finishes combing Dawn’s hair straight. In the mirror Dawn’s eyes flicker towards the worn chair in the corner of the room. “Mom came and laid out our clothes earlier - when you were still asleep.”

Buffy hums in response as she grabs a pale blue ribbon off of the desk, the same one she has tied into her hair for every Reaping day that she’s attended before. Dawn notices and shakes her head, “Buffy, no.”

Buffy smiles, “It brings out your eyes. Plus, it’s my last year, I won’t need it anymore.”

Dawn accepts and beams back at her in the mirror. Buffy takes it in, lets it wash away the fear that she might somehow lose her baby sister today. Then she smacks Dawn’s side with the comb, “Now scooch, I’ve gotta get ready, too.”

Dawn laughs and goes to get dressed while Buffy combs her own hair. On the bed, Tricks stretches her back. Downstairs, their mother is scrubbing the dishes she has used to make a special breakfast of eggs with cheese and toast. Across District Twelve, families are silent as they each prepare to mourn two of the District children. Their only solace is the hope that the child won’t be their own. Each family, each mother and father and child, is burdened by one ultimate truth of the tributes that District Twelve breeds. 

They never win.

*

After Joyce feeds Buffy and Dawn breakfast in a desperate attempt at normalcy on the day that she will be sending both of her daughters to their possible deaths, Buffy heads out to see Angel before The Reaping. With a promise to be back to walk with Dawn to The Reaping, she sets on her path past the Victor’s Village and through the Seam to visit Angel. It’s the very same path she takes everyday, whether it is to get to school or Angel. The only difference is that today it is riddled with an abundance of white-armoured Peacekeepers. As she passes the Victor’s Village the very same puddle that she found Tricks in months ago has formed again after the past few weeks of rain. When she looks through the iron fence lining the village, she notices the gates are open like they so rarely are and she spots Cordelia Chase.

Cordelia Chase is the escort for District Twelve, she’s the one in charge of narrating The Reaping every year with a cheerful smile and absolutely sickeningly fake voice. Each year she accompanies the mentors and tributes to the Games and essentially keeps them in check. Until five years ago, she also played the role as the female mentor for the District as Twelve previously had no female victors. Of course, born and raised in the Capitol, she remains clueless in her understanding of what it means to be anyone in District Twelve, let alone a tribute.

Buffy slows her walk for a moment as she watches the Capitol native struggle not to sink in her heeled shoes. She muffles her laughs as she watches how the unnatural pink of the woman’s skin darkens into a pinker shade at her frustration. It’s odd, Buffy thinks, the contradiction between the bright pink of Cordelia’s everything and the stark browns of Twelve’s everything. As Cordelia turns towards the only house with lights shining through the wet morning sun, Buffy continues on her way.

Passing the Hob, she spots Rack as he buys more alcohol than any person has any right to. He’s the head Peacekeeper and frequents her mother’s shop, often purchasing gifts for the women he pays to warm his bed. Buffy wouldn’t say she has the most lavish life, not after her Dad left her mother with two daughters and the income from an antique shop, but when she thinks of so many girls the same age as her, raised just further on in her District in the Seam, she figures she got pretty lucky. A one bedroom apartment above the shop isn’t exactly the life Buffy dreams about but Dawn and Joyce and even Tricks make it easily bearable. Coming out of her thoughts, Buffy spots the familiar brown bricks of Angel’s house. Approaching the door and knowing she’ll be welcomed, she lets herself in. Seeing that Angel is not in the living room she calls out, “Angel!”

A young boy with shaggy hair that has been brushed back for the day’s events comes from the basement carrying a sewing kit. “He’s upstairs getting ready.” The boy offers the sewing kit towards her, “Could you help him out so I can go finish breakfast? I didn’t want to wake him early today.”

Buffy smiles at the boy, taking the kit, “Sure thing, Connor. Let me know if you need any help.”

As he stalks towards the kitchen, he grumbles something about not risking interruption that Buffy doesn’t quite catch. Ignoring him, Buffy turns to the opposite side of the house, entering the second bedroom on the right. Standing in the doorway she watches as Angel holds the collar of his shirt tight in his mouth as he tries and fails to sew a button back onto his shirt with a broken needle. Trying not to laugh at his attempts, she steps towards him, “Need some help with that?”

After he jumps and the shirt falls back towards his chest, Angel turns. “Oh! Uh, yeah that would be nice.” 

Smiling at Angel, she pulls the needle out of the kit and threads it. Angel leans into her as she does it, “I don’t mean to be so inept.”

Buffy turns towards him, gesturing for him to take his shirt off. “You’re not, it’s hardly easy to sew with a broken needle.”

Angel smirks but it doesn’t last, “It’s not just that, Connor is making breakfast this morning and I couldn’t even tell him not to because I woke up so late and I don’t have time to get dressed and fix my shirt and make breakfast before The Reaping.”

Buffy quickly finishes the button before she responds, “For the sake of not thinking too deeply this morning, let’s pretend this isn’t about it being Connor’s first Reaping. Anyways, you just have to put your shirt on and then you can head down and have breakfast with your brother and still have quite a bit of time before the alarms start ringing.”

Angel is looking at the floor as he shrugs his arms through the sleeves of his shirt. Buffy lifts his chin, “ _ Hey _ , Connor is going to be okay and so are we, and so is Dawn and then you and I won’t have to worry about ourselves anymore.”

Angel nods as Buffy reaches forward to button his shirt. “There, all handsome and ready for the day.”

Angel looks her up and down as he says, “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Buffy catches a glimpse of the worn clock on the dresser, “I have to head back soon, Dawn can’t go to her first Reaping alone.”

Angel smiles a joyless one, “No, she can’t.”

Buffy pulls him in for a quick kiss and smiles, “Stay safe.”

Instead of the three words he actually wants to say, especially today when his gut has been churning, Angel says, “You too.”

*

Across the District, in the mostly empty and fully silent Victor’s Village, are the two people who contradict what the entire District knows about its tributes. At the stove, a middle aged man brews tea as a young redhead stands in front of the hall mirror, pulling her hair back into a styled bun. The man looks up from the pot he tends to at the stove and quirks an eyebrow at the redhead’s choice. He speaks, “Trying to impress someone?”

The girl turns, smirking, “Funny.”

He hums, “Well, I know how you teenage girls can be. Always looking for your next suitor.”

This springs a laugh from her, “Absolutely, us teenage girls especially like to look for those suitors on Reaping Day.”

He acts surprised, “Ah, yes, I’d almost forgotten.”

She rolls her eyes, “No, you didn’t.”

In a more serious tone than he’s offered yet, he says, “No, I didn’t.”

She shrugs off the grim reminder of what today means, “Well, hey! Think of it this way, in around a month, there might be another District Twelve victor!”

The man stares at her a moment as she stares back, simultaneously they laugh at the absurd idea though flickers of guilt mar both of their faces. Their raucous laughter falls to silence quickly and as the man pours the tea into two cups and offers her one, he speaks. “Truly, Willow. How are you doing?”

She smiles tightly, “I’m doing fantastic.”

He tilts his head in observance, “You’re eighteen now, this year would’ve been - ”

Willow cuts him off, “Thank you, Giles, but I know exactly what this year would’ve been. And I’m doing fine.”

Now what both Giles and Willow know this year would’ve been for her might seem unclear to the unknowledgeable mind. They are both in the Victor’s Village, so quite obviously, they are the victors from previous years of Panem’s Hunger Games. Victors come from the Reaped tributes, two from each of Panem’s twelve Districts, and there’s only one every year. Giles has long since aged out of eligibility for the games, though at the age of eighteen he was Reaped with the other District Twelve tributes and forced into an arena where his job was to kill other twelve to eighteen year old kids. 

Willow, unlike Giles, would still be attending The Reapings as a possible tribute if not for her already being drawn as a tribute. Today, Willow is eighteen years old. And on this same day five years ago, Willow’s name was called. Today would be Willow’s last Reaping if she wasn’t forced to kill her peers in an arena designed to entertain the wealthy. Today would be the last year that Willow would have to feel the fear of the possibility of the arena if she hadn’t been Reaped. But she was Reaped. So, instead, she faces that fear every night when she wakes up screaming for freedom from a place that she has long since physically escaped.

Willow isn’t actually doing fine. She’s pissed and devastated and even relieved that she’ll stop seeing the kids she grew up with in the training rooms and then never again. Willow might not be free after this year, but every other eighteen year old in Twelve, save two, will be. Willow thinks of Xander, and then no one else.

Across from her at the table, Giles is sipping his tea when they both hear a knock at the door. Giles looks up intrigued, “I wonder who that could be?”

Willow laughs, “Yes, out of our many visitors I wonder who’s knocking on your door on Reaping Day.”

Giles hums as he answers the door. As the two of them are accosted by bright colours, an equally bright voice squeals, “Mr. Giles! You’re looking as handsome as always, with your disheveled librarian attire.” Giles looks over the bright pink head hugging him to stare at Willow as if to say ‘ _ My what? _ ’ Willow snorts down a laugh at the look but unfortunately draws attention to herself. 

The pink head turns. “And young Willow! Quickly becoming a woman before our very eyes!”

As the eccentric woman’s arms wrap around her, Willow offers a response. “It’s good to see you too, Cordy.”

Cordy’s unnaturally long eyelashes flutter as she moves away from Willow. As she takes in both of the victors, her demeanor changes, like she’s realized no one else can see them here. Immediately she rolls her eyes, “Do you two  _ insist _ on dressing like you’re homeless?” 

Perhaps it is a tactless thing for someone to say to the two sole victors of the District with the highest homelessness rate, but it’s also coming from Cordy, who grew up in the warm embrace of the Capitol as home. Neither Willow nor Giles take any offence. In fact, looking as Cordy’s newly pink hair paired with her slightly unnaturally pinked skin, Giles shoots back, “Do  _ you _ insist on looking like cotton candy all the time?”

This pulls a laugh from Willow and a fond smirk from Cordy. Grinning, she speaks, “I have missed the two of you, truly.”

Willow scrunches up her face, “It’s only been a few months.”

Cordy shrugs, “You two are far more entertaining than anyone in the Capitol. Except maybe Lorne.”

Both Willow and Giles nod in agreement. Willow chooses to speak, “Yea, well, unspeakable trauma and irremediable guilt will make you more entertaining. Just ask President Snyder, he throws the best parties.”

Cordy laughs. Giles shoots a glare at Willow and she offers him no response.

If Cordy notices the tension, she doesn’t mention it. Instead, she claps her hands once. “Well. we should get going. The two of you are supposed to be there before the young ones start arriving.”

Willow looks like she’s about to say something but Giles purposely cuts her off. “Of course, we wouldn’t want them to forget how important the games are. I’m sure all the twelve year olds are itching to see the film.”

It’s clearly pointed and Willow catches the sarcasm. Cordy does not.

The three of them walk towards the town square, as she pretends to not trip over the dirt and rocks of District Twelve roads, Cordy asks questions about their lives in the past few months. Giles affirms that yes, he is still gladly single. Willow tells Cordy about how her cat ran away and Cordy apologizes like it’s a person. Apologizes like she knows the meaning behind the cat, which she can’t possibly.

The long walk feels quick as the small talk shifts to laughter and poking fun at each other. They stand together still talking until the alarm tolls and the beginnings of the families start to appear down the roads. Willow recognizes a not-so-young boy with dark shaggy hair and a goofy smile that he offers to a young girl he passes. She turns quickly before he can spot her eyes on him. Giles notices but says nothing. Cordy speaks up, “I do believe that is your cue to go wait backstage.” 

The day hits them as they enter the back of the stage and sit in front of the television already broadcasting the crowd of teenagers. Giles has been a mentor for 23 years. Willow is the only tribute he’s ever mentored who’s made it out alive. Willow has only been mentoring for 4 but she feels the weight of all eight tributes on her shoulders. Today they’ll both meet two more tributes, two more  _ kids _ , who will be added to their shouldered burden. Twelve’s kids never win the games. It was said the year Giles won, and every year after, including the year Willow won. But that’s two victors out of the past 50 games, two doesn’t get rid of an idea that sits in the minds of every person in the nation. In the history of Twelve there’s only been three victors, and the first was never even a mentor. He killed himself after only being out of the arena a month. The capitol has since made those choices essentially impossible.

Willow and Giles sit together in silence, waiting for the Mayor to begin his speech and for the two of them to be called out and be faced with applause that the crowd doesn't mean and that they don’t deserve. Willow spots a familiar face for the second time that day through the television, as her once best friend stands in the front of the crowd of teens. The last time he’ll stand in that part of the crowd. It’s the only solace Willow finds in seeing his face in the crowd at all. 

The Mayor begins his speech and both Willow and Giles stand in preparation. It’s about to be a long couple months and Willow wishes she could be somewhere else with less guilt and less blood on her hands. Instead, she waits to be called in front of a stage to be applauded for the people she’s killed. Willow hates everything about the Games and the Districts and the Capitol. But she’s stuck in this world with her guilt and her knowledge that in less than an hour, there will be two more lives in her hands.

*

When Buffy arrives back from Angel’s house, the alarms have just started ringing through the District and she can already see the fear in Dawn’s eyes. Buffy runs her hands over Dawn’s hair tightening the ponytail in it, “You’re going to be okay. We both will, and we’ll come home and have the best lunch and maybe Mom will let us stay home from school tomorrow.” 

Buffy spares a glance over Dawn’s head to where Joyce is smiling and nodding. When Buffy pulls away, the alarms are steadily growing louder. Joyce speaks, “You two should head on now, I’ll be just behind you.” 

Dawn has of course been to a Reaping before, it’s required, but the walk to the square on this day is different. She sees the camera crews perched on the roofs and she sees the crowds of families and children. Spotting some older men who clearly seem to be joking around Dawn pulls on Buffy’s arm, pointing, “Who are they?” 

Buffy’s face is grim as she replies, “Those are the bet-placers.”

Dawn turns towards her sister, appalled, “What, like on who is going to be Reaped?!”

When Buffy nods, Dawn becomes emotional, “Who would do that?”

Buffy looks equally emotional, “I don’t know.”

As the two of them get closer to the sign-in station, the crowd becomes thicker and Buffy feels as Dawn becomes more anxious. In an attempt to sooth her, Buffy starts running her fingers through the ends of Dawn’s hair. When they meet the front, the Peacekeepers split them up as they usher Buffy towards the front with all the other eighteen year olds. Glancing once more towards her sister, Buffy smiles and mouths,  _ I’ll see you after. _ In return, Dawn offers the closest thing to a smile she can.

As the final teenagers are signed-in and sent to their parts of the crowd, Buffy watches Cordelia Chase arrive on the stage, sitting next to the Mayor of District Twelve, Richard Wilkins III, and two empty chairs. Buffy’s mom has told her that the former two Richard Wilkins’ were the previous mayors. The only people with money in District Twelve could probably never find a way to lose it. Buffy imagines that’s one of the reasons the Victors never leave their village.

Buffy stares at the stage, focusing on one of the large bowls on stage, the one that holds her name sixteen times, a combination of assurance of enough food and it being her eighth Reaping, and her sister’s once. She thinks also of Angel’s name, in the other bowl forty-one times this year to ensure that he and Connor get enough food to survive the year. She knows there are kids with their names in more times than hers and even Angel’s, but her heart is still fluttering as she watches the Mayor step forward to begin the speech that happens every year. 

He runs through the history of Panem, filled with all the subtle threats that the Capitol ensures remain in the backs of the heads of every citizen of Panem. Eventually, he begins to outline the history of the Hunger Games themselves, ending with a list of District Twelve’s victors. In total, District Twelve has had a resounding three victors. He mentions a boy who’d ended his own life as soon as he returned from the games, of course framed through the Capitol's view of cowardice. Skimming through his story as quickly as possible, Wilkins moves onto Rupert Giles, a man who won the fiftieth Hunger Games at age eighteen, just barely eligible to be Reaped at all, he’d turned nineteen while he was in the Games. As Wilkins finishes introducing him, a man unrecognizable from the teenage portrait that had been presented walks across the stage, bowing his head in response to the applause the crowd offers him. It’s likely that the younger people in the crowd don’t recognize him at all. He never leaves the village at all anymore, opting solely for delivery or sending his fellow victor out for him.

Buffy’s own memory of him is dim and seems inaccurate to her. She remembers being young enough that Dawn was still in diapers and her father was still around when he came in laughing with a brunette woman who seemed familiar somehow. She might’ve worked at the school, but Buffy’s memory doesn’t promise her any certainty. Still, she doesn’t know that any of that memory is accurate at all. As Buffy begins to pay attention again, the Mayor begins to introduce the latest victor, not that she needs much introduction at all.

When Willow Rosenberg was Reaped at age thirteen, there was not a single soul in any District who thought she might win the Games. Not even the men who bet on just about every District Twelve kid despite the odds. She wasn’t just young but she was thin and clearly malnourished and had scored low throughout her training. The odds were explicitly not in her favour. Still, a little over a month later, the small redhead was crowned Victor and given a house for her and her family to live in. Her youth makes her well known, but it’s likely the vocality with which she went against the Games and the Capitol after winning the Games that she is infamous for that makes her name so familiar. 

For Buffy, however, her memory of the redhead is less famous but just as impactful. Buffy was thirteen the same year that Willow was Reaped, which is surreal to think about in general, but that means they both had their first Reaping at the same time. Buffy, at age twelve, was more obvious about her fear of Reaping Day. Willow Rosenberg, a virtual stranger to Buffy, aside from her knowledge that Willow was in a higher grade at school but still in the same line at The Reaping, had reached out her hand to grab Buffy’s when she saw the blonde shaking profusely. Buffy had held onto her like a lifeline, and for that year, she was. The next year, when Buffy returned the favour, she was no lifeline at all when Peacekeepers ended up escorting Willow to the stage as a boy Buffy recognized from class ran into the aisle separating the boys and girls, screaming for the Peacekeeper’s to let her go. 

They, of course, didn’t. And somehow, the redhead now walks across the stage, offering the crowd a tight and shy smile as she takes her seat next to Giles. After the crowd has offered the last of its applause for the District’s victors, the Mayor introduces Cordelia Chase. Everyone in the crowd already knows who she is, her hot pink presence an annual interruption in the gray and dim of usual District Twelve life.

Cordelia’s smile is bright as she steps forward and her voice matches when she says, “Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be  _ ever _ in your favour!”

As Cordelia talks about the honour she takes in performing her job, Buffy catches Angel’s eye across the aisle. Angel rolls his eyes at Buffy and she smiles at him. She just has to make it a little longer and then she’s free from the Games. Both Buffy and Angel’s heads whip forward as Cordelia’s voice breaks their thoughts “Ladies first!”

Buffy watches intently as Cordelia walks to one of the two bowls on the stage. Everyone in District Twelve watches intently as Cordelia walks to one of the two bowls on the stage. The crowd grows ever quieter as she walks towards the podium, one damning slip of paper between her fingers. She smoothes the paper, clears her throat, and speaks.

For a moment, Buffy lets herself feel relief, because the name isn’t hers. But then she realizes.

She realizes, the name isn’t hers.

The name is Dawn Summers.

*

In the very back of the crowd of District Twelve’s girls, Dawn Summers is frozen in fear and disbelief. Her name is in the bowl once. She knows she has to move, that she has to get onto the stage, but she can’t move her feet. She looks around and sees the girls she recognizes from school staring at her with shock or pity or both. Dawn can’t look behind, can’t find her mom in the crowd and see the despair she knows will be there. When the Peacekeeper’s grab her arms, she willingly goes with them. 

Until she hears something.

Something far worse than her name being called by Cordelia Chase, far worse than the despair she refused to see on her mother’s face. She hears her sister’s voice, one she would recognize deaf or dead or asleep, calling out the words, “I volunteer!”

As Dawn turns towards the voice, her arm burning in the grip of the Peacekeepers, she starts saying no, but Buffy’s “I volunteer as tribute!” rings louder.

Dawn can’t fix this, her cries grow louder, “ _ No _ !”

Buffy smiles wetly at her, “You’ll be okay.”

And before Dawn can explain that  _ no _ , she won’t. Buffy is being taken away by the very same Peacekeepers that held her back just moments ago.

Once she has run to the arms of her mother, they both face the stage with tears pouring down their cheeks while Cordelia Chase congratulates the girl they both love for sacrificing her life. Dawn watches the way Buffy stares blankly when Cordelia Chase asks her name.

From his spot in the crowd, Angel still stands in shock as he hears the girl he loves say “Buffy Summers.” On a stage he never wanted her to stand on. 

Cordelia confirms that Dawn is her sister and Angel knew as soon as Dawn’s name was called that Buffy would be Twelve’s female tribute this year. For moments, he forgets about Connor and their dead parents and considers volunteering for whatever guy is Reaped. But he does have Connor and they don’t have parents and Connor wouldn’t survive without him. So, when Alexander Harris’ name is called and a boy behind him chokes on his breath, Angel does nothing but watch as he lumbers towards the stage. He notes the silence in the crowd’s reaction in comparison to the Summers girls.

What no one sees, thankfully, is the way that Willow Rosenberg nearly stands, as if about to march into battle. It is only the hand that Giles wraps around her arm, yanking hard, that stops her. With the whispered words of, “There is too much to lose.” He makes her stop.

And there is - too much for Willow to lose, that is - but still, as she watches the boy she has loved as a brother since she was in diapers, she considers for a moment reanimating her role as the bane of the Capitol. She doesn’t and instead Alexander walks to the stage uncontested.

From her place across from him on stage, Buffy considers the boy who has been in her classes since seventh grade. Considers the way that he used to be obnoxious and occasionally funny and then as suddenly as Willow was Reaped he was silenced. She doesn’t know him well, but she knows him enough to know that the ‘Alexander’ Cordelia offered would in most other circumstances garner no response since he goes by Xander. She knows that him, Willow Rosenberg and another boy Buffy hasn’t seen in a while used to spend just about every second together. Buffy has interacted with him enough to know that he’s not especially intelligent but not dumb, he’s not especially skinny, at least not in comparison with others of the District, while also not being overweight. He’s average in every sense, he has as little of a chance at winning as Buffy does, she thinks. 

But what Buffy doesn’t know is the great difference between the two of them. The one that gives Buffy substantially higher odds to win than Xander has. The thing that gives Buffy an advantage, is the same thing that made her volunteer, and the same thing that has her family in tears at the back of the crowd and that has Angel staring up at her in fear from the front. Buffy has something to fight for. Xander doesn’t. Or at least doesn’t think he does.

When Wilkins finishes his speech on the Treaty of Treason, he motions for Buffy and Xander to shake hands. As they do, Buffy notes that Xanders hands are clammy. Xander can’t think of anything over the loud noise of his heart pounding. The anthem of Panem begins to play and the two of them turn back to face the audience. Behind them, Giles stands next to Willow, glancing at her as she stares sternly ahead, not allowing herself a single glance towards the boy. 

*

As soon as the anthem ends, both Buffy and Xander are dragged away to their respective rooms in the Justice Building. Willow and Giles go straight to the train, Cordelia to follow shortly after. Giles sees the anger in Willow’s steps before she has the chance to say anything. As soon as they are in their compartment on the train, Peacekeepers safely distanced, cameras on the other side of the door and surrounded by more food than any of the starving kids in Twelve could ever eat, Willow turns violently, all the rage that she holds failing to disguise the terror in her eyes. “They did this on purpose.”

Her voice is calm, but everything else about her betrays it. Giles looks at her, as understanding as he can, “Willow, they wouldn’t possibly.”

She looks at him with audacity, “Oh? They wouldn’t?

Where’s Oz, Giles? Or Jesse? Or  _ Jen _ -”

He cuts her off, “You very well know that is not what I meant. They wouldn’t mess with a Reaping, not even to punish you.”

Willow scoffs, “ _ They would _ , Giles. That’s their whole gig. The entire Games are a punishment.”

Giles’ tone is softer now, “You haven’t been outwardly against them in quite some time now, they have no reason to punish you.”

“It doesn’t matter if I haven’t done anything  _ recently _ I did enough then, they’re going to do what they did to Faith and every other victor who said anything against the Games. Ensure that we know that we still have something to lose.” As her voice breaks on the last word, Giles realizes what this is actually about. 

He steps closer, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Willow…”

She looks down, sniffing, “They knew about my parents and the McNally’s and Oz, and apparently they know about Xander, too.” 

When she looks up the fear isn’t disguised by anything at all, “What if they know about  _ her? _ ”

Giles sighs because he knows that his words won’t do much, that the fear she has is too strong to be assuaged by some warm words and a few doses of logic. He speaks anyway, “They know about Xander because he was adamant about not letting you go at your Reaping, they knew about your families because they went to your room before the Games. They knew about Oz because you ensured they did.” He pulls her in for a hug, “They don’t know about her _. _ ”

As she pulls away from him, they both turn towards the now opening train doors as Cordelia walks in, Xander trailing behind her. She looks uncharacteristically awkward as she introduces the surroundings of the train to the boy. Giles furrows his brow as he speaks, “That was awfully quick.”

Cordy shakes her head subtly at Giles but he doesn’t understand, Willow does. Xander offers an explanation, “No visitors, so I got the speedy introduction.”

Cordy cringes as Giles looks mildly shocked. As they both school their features, Cordy turns back to Xander, “Well, Mr. Harris, this is Rupert Giles, winner of the fiftieth Hunger Games.”

He offers his hand and Xander grips it, “Giles will suit just fine.”

Xander nods, “Oh, uh, then maybe call me Xander instead of Mr. Harris or Alexander or Male Tribute.” He offers a goofy but ill-suited smile.

Moving on, Cordy speaks again, “And this is - ”

Xander finishes for her, “Willow Rosenberg, winner of the sixty-ninth Hunger Games, I remember.”

Cordelia rolls her eyes, “How rude!”

Giles clears her throat, “Cordy, I think you’ll find that Willow and Mr. Harris here are, erm, childhood friends.”

Her eyes widen in understanding, “Oh! Well, I’ll leave you to become reacquainted and go see how our fifth member is coming along.”

After she leaves, Giles excuses himself, claiming he is going to find the bar car, leaving the two old friends alone. In the silence of the compartment, they both stare at each other. 

Xander is the first one to brave the silence, “So, you don’t call, you don’t write…”

Willow shifts under his gaze. “Xander…”

He smiles a taunting smile, though Willow is unsure if it’s directed at her or himself. “Well, hey, maybe now that we have this in common I’m worthy of your presence again.”

Willow looks at him sadly, “That’s not…”

Xander’s eyes widen in emphasis. “What? That’s not what it’s about? You’re famous now,  _ you won the Games _ . Everyone in the Capitol loves you and I’m not on the party guest lists so how could you  _ ever _ make time for me?”

Willow shakes her head. “Xander…”

Xander’s fists clenched at his sides as he takes a step back towards one of the chairs. “Do you have anything other than my name to say? Anything at all?”

And she does, she can think of millions of things to say, millions of things to tell him. Namely that she’s missed him so, so much, but half of the things she wants to say won’t help. And the other half she isn’t allowed to say to anyone. So she doesn’t say anything.

Giles comes back and Xander doesn’t say anything more. Giles notes the tensions there, sees the subtle shake of Willow’s shoulders and knows that he probably shouldn’t say anything. So he doesn’t. Once Willow takes a seat at the round table, both Giles and Xander follow her lead.

*

In her room in the Justice Building, Buffy paces. She’s going to die. She’s  _ eighteen _ , and she’s going to die. She doesn’t feel like talking to her mom or Dawn and she doesn’t feel like going on that train. The only thing she feels like doing is crying. But she can’t cry because there’s cameras on every corner and if she even wants a chance at surviving the games then her competition can’t see her as weak. As soon as you’re seen as weak, you’ll be picked off first and unless you’re a Career who has been trained to fight or if you’re much stronger than you appear, then you’ll die. So Buffy doesn’t cry. 

When her mom and Dawn come in, Dawn is sobbing as her nails dig into Buffy’s back, refusing to let her go, Buffy doesn’t cry. When Joyce tells her to be brave, that she’ll live through this, that she’s strong enough to do it, she doesn’t cry. When Dawn’s sobs stop, when she begs Buffy to try. When she tells Buffy she can’t live without a sister, she doesn’t cry. The Peacekeepers come in and tell them it’s been long enough, she comes close, but she doesn’t cry. She watches as her mom and sister walk away, watches Dawn look over her shoulder desperately and her mother’s shoulders shake with tears she wouldn’t let her daughter see. Buffy thinks about how that’ll probably be the last time she sees them, and she doesn’t cry.

She waits, thinking that the person who will come in after is Cordy. That this is it, her last moments in her District, her last moments alone. And then the knock on the door is a familiar pattern and Angel walks through. Angel who she doesn’t have to be brave for, Angel who looks at her smiles a tired smile and opens his arms. And the tears start. Angel soothes her as her body shakes with sobs, “Shh… You’re okay. You’re strong, you’ll be okay.”

Buffy just nestles her face further into his shoulder, breathing in his comforting scent that she’ll probably never get to smell again. Reading her mind, Angel steps back. “You’re going to make it out and we’re going to see each other again and you’ll have enough money so that you won’t have to worry about your family starving or the shop going under and you’ll be  _ safe _ .”

Buffy sniffs and nods, though she doesn’t believe it. Angel places his hand under her chin and lifts her head so he’s staring into her eyes. “ _ Hey _ , you  _ will _ . You’re scrappy, you have time to train, there’s mentors for a reason. You have people to fight for. You’ll come back and it’ll be okay.”

Buffy doesn’t say that even if she does come back it won’t be okay because there isn’t a single thing about The Games that is okay. Instead she smiles a tired smile at Angel and pulls him back closer to her and kisses him. She knows it’s a goodbye kiss, and she suspects that he does too. The Peacekeepers knock aggressively on the door as she pulls away from him and she watches his mouth move and she knows the three words he’s about to say so she cuts him off. “Don’t.” Angel tilts his head in confusion, Buffy continues “ I know, me too, but I don’t want us to have said it because I’m about to be sent into a battle to the death.”

Angel smiles at her words, though the situation of them certainly could be better. He presses one final kiss to her forehead as the doors to the room open, “I’ll miss you.” 

She smiles under his lips and watches him leave as Cordelia Chase walks into the room. Cordelia’s eyes follow Angel as he passes by her and she meets Buffy’s eyes and smiles. “Isn’t he handsome?”

Buffy blushes as Cordelia offers her a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Cordelia Chase.”

Buffy takes her hand, “I’m Buffy, but you already know that.”

Cordelia laughs, “Yeah, it’d be hard not to with the show you just gave.”

Buffy wants to say it wasn’t a show, wants to say that if the Capitol wasn’t so terrible then she would never have to stop her  _ twelve year old  _ sister from being sent to her death, but she bites her tongue as she plasters on a smile and nods.

Cordelia smiles back and claps her hands, “Well! We should probably get to the train, your fellow tribute is already waiting, I think you’ll get along great.”

Buffy disagrees, aside from their district and death sentence, she doubts they have anything in common. But she just keeps nodding in response to Cordelia’s words. She lets the pink woman pull her along until they reach the train and enter. 

First, Buffy’s eyes go to the mountains of food across the table and bars in the train car. She cannot remember ever seeing that much food, not even when her father was still around and they would go to the annual Capitol sponsored Peacekeeper dinners. She doesn’t know if her entire school class could eat that amount of food. Once she is over the food, she looks to the occupants of the room, the boy she knows from school looks frustrated as he plays with the tablecloth of the table he sits behind. Buffy looks at Willow looking at him sadly and wonders if they’re friends, they’d certainly seemed that way before the sixty-ninth Games, but it’s been years and Buffy doesn’t remember ever seeing Willow leave the Victor’s Village after the McNally fire. 

Buffy looks over Willow who still looks like the mousy thirteen year old she stood next to but there are things about her face that are off. She knows about the way that the Capitol doctors are able to repair nearly any injury without leaving any proof behind but she studies Willow’s face and sees the scars she remembers another tribute giving her during the games peeking from under her skin, almost like veins poorly covered by makeup. Buffy wonder’s whose decision it was to repair them that way, Willow’s or the Capitol’s. The person she knows the least about, Giles, is the one who steps forward to address her first as Cordelia nudges her forward, out of the doorway. “Miss Summers, it’s a  _ pleasure  _ to meet you.”

He makes a face as he speaks, like he knows it’s not a pleasure to meet anyone after you’ve been Reaped, and Buffy decides that she likes him. Willow watches the exchange and laughs at Giles’ expression and Cordelia’s exasperated sigh. Xander thinks it’s funny too, but he’s still mad at Willow and doesn’t want to agree with anything she does so he doesn’t laugh. Cordelia ignores them all and hums, changing the subject, “So, two eighteen year olds, maybe we will win this year.”

Both Giles and Willow roll their eyes at her and Xander and Buffy both cringe at their mentor’s apparent lack of support for them. Cordelia glares at the mentors, “Well, we definitely won’t if you two insist on being this stubborn and pessimistic.”

Willow snorts, “If optimism won the games then none of your tributes would be dead. But optimism doesn’t save malnourished kids from a district no one cares about.”

Cordelia looks at Willow and Buffy feels intrusive watching their interaction as Cordelia says, “Well, it saved one malnourished kid from a district no one cares about, and if that’s the only kid it saves, that’s enough for me.”

Willow looks down and Xander is appalled at the shame on her face under the gaze of a woman the two of them used to make fun of every year until they didn’t anymore. She abruptly stands and turns to head to the next train car and Cordelia calls after her, “You can’t just walk away when you’re upset.”

Willow looks over her shoulder and only Giles notices the tears in her eyes as she says, “I’m  _ not  _ running away, I’m getting my notes.”

Buffy and Xander finally look to each other as they both realize that one of the people who they depend on to train them to live through the Hunger Games is a teenager. 


	2. i wanna know there's hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exposition babey

No one says anything while Willow is out of the room, mostly because they don’t really know what to say about anything that is happening. Buffy could say something to Xander about school and they could probably have a conversation about that but small talk about school seems very ill suited while they’re sitting on a train hurtling towards the Capitol. Xander could probably ask Giles about Willow but then he wouldn’t seem mad, he would just seem interested and lonely, which he  _ is _ , but he doesn’t want Willow to find that out. Giles could ask them about how they want to face the Games, whether they want to work as a team, but usually Willow and he let the tributes have this train ride before they have to truly look their deaths in the eye. Cordelia has already moved to a different car, talking to one of the Avoxs and Giles wonders, not for the last time, if Cordy knows that they don’t have tongues. So, with none of them having anything to say, they sit in silence, only Cordelia’s meaningless chatter filling the void.

Or, they do until Willow nearly trips back into the room, carrying several notebooks. Giles immediately knows what’s about to happen and sighs deeply and slowly takes off his glasses to clean them with a napkin from the table. Cordy does not know what’s about to happen and looks up at Willow’s return and spots the books. “What are those?”

Willow smirks at Cordy. “You wanted my optimism? Well, here are notes on all the districts and their strengths and we -” She points to Buffy, Xander, and Giles, “Are going to go over them so that they have their best chance in the arena.”

Cordelia hums, “Okay, but is there a reason you wrote your notes out in literal books when you have several tablets and laptops?”

Giles shakes his head from behind Willow but Cordelia ignores him and Willow replies, “Because if I stored it on a tablet then the Capitol would have access to it and screw it up.”

Buffy scrunches her nose in confusion, she whispers to Xander, “What’s a tablet?”

Xander looks equally confused. “I think it’s like the computers that they have at the school? But they’re way smaller and skinnier.”

Buffy nods. “Huh.”

Turning her attention back to her mentor, she watches Giles say, “Willow, that seems a little paranoid, don’t you think?”

Willow glares at him and Buffy is shocked to see pieces of the girl who appeared in the last few days that Willow was in the arena. “Really, Giles? It’s paranoid to think the Capitol would look at my electronic data when they have  _ bugged my house to the point that I now live with you? _ That seems paranoid to you? Yeah, definitely, the Capitol will have Peacekeepers read every letter I’m sent but they draw the line at knowing what I store on my computers,” She scoffs, “Paranoid…”

Giles nods his concession, “Perhaps you’re right, but that rant you just went on did not make you seem  _ more  _ sane.”

Willow laughs a little at that, “Screw off.”

Giles just smiles and gestures to her books. Willow follows his movement and jumps. “Right!” She sits in front of Xander and Buffy at the table, flipping to a highlighted page in the first notebook, “Now, I could go over every victor from each district in the past fifty years but you two don’t seem like the research types…”

At both Xander and Buffy’s nods of agreement, Willow continues, “Right, so, we’ll go over each district's strengths and advantages, and also their most famous victors, since other tributes occasionally attempt copycat victories, which never works. No one wants to watch a rerun and the Gamemakers won’t let you do it, so, definitely don’t do it.”

Giles snorts at Willow’s eloquent description and Willow rolls her eyes at him. Xander looks disapprovingly at the aspect of research, he was looking forward to attempting to train and then a very quick death in the arena, but now he has to learn things. But, he figures, knowing Willow, he probably should’ve seen that coming. Buffy looks equally impressed at the aspect, though, admittedly, she does hold some interest in hearing about previous victors. Like every other citizen in Panem, she’s been forced to witness the vicious game that is televised throughout and like every other citizen of Panem, she has fallen into the trap that trauma equals entertainment. 

Buffy nods as Willow looks expectantly at the two tributes in front of her, “Sounds good to me.”

The two of them look at Xander and he smiles self-deprecatingly, “Hey, I’m all about learning as much as I can before I die.”

Willow’s face falters at his statement but she doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, she pulls out a laptop and sets it on the table and opens it so that two photos, one of what looks like an extensive training ground and one of a young blonde woman, stare at Xander and Buffy. Giles smirks, “A slide show?”

Willow glares at him, “I don’t see you helping, mister.”

Giles gestures towards her, as if to say ‘carry on.’ Cordelia leaves her position near the bar to sit down near Giles, she offers him candy from the small bowl she is holding as they both watch on entertained. 

Willow focuses on her notebooks, “District One, their primary industry is luxury. But their actual primary industry is breeding victors. They have the highest amount of victors from any district, and it’s not just luck. Their tributes are trained, and are almost exclusively volunteers.”

Buffy interrupts, “I thought it was illegal to train for the games before you’re reaped.”

Willow nods. “It absolutely is, however, One is exempt from this since they provide the Capitol with it’s precious jewelry and gems. Plus, it’s much more entertaining to watch kids who know how to fight kill each other than watching ones who don’t nearly kill themselves.”

At Buffy’s nod, Willow continues, “Anyway, their most famous Victor is Glory. She was a career - a tribute trained to fight who volunteered to go into the arena. She was sixteen when she volunteered and she won one of the longest games in history. She also has the second highest body count of any victor at 21. She would form alliances with other tributes, which worked since she was a career and her ally-ship was coveted, if you want an alliance, a career is who you want, and One’s careers are the best of the best since they get access to data from previous games. But with her alliances she would slowly drive her allies to the brink of insanity using a combination of berries she found in the arena and mind games. And once they were almost completely insane, she would kill them in their sleep.”

Both Buffy and Xander looked disturbed by this, Giles and Cordy who were witnesses to it only two years before Willow’s Games, continue eating their candy. Willow clears her throat, “The reason that the Gamemakers let her games go on so long is because it was still entertaining. Glory made the audience watch as she built relationship after relationship, only to slowly tear the person apart and eventually kill them. And they kept watching because she wasn’t killing them gruesomely. She gave them false comfort that what she was doing was sympathetic.”

Giles coughs, “Get to the point.”

Willow looks to him, “Right! The point is, you cannot allow yourself to fully trust  _ anyone _ in the arena, no matter if they are your friend or you think they’re cute or if they are a career. There is only one Victor. The first person Glory killed was her younger brother, Jinx. You are never safe as long as you are in that arena.”

Buffy laughs, shocked. “So, what? Us from District Twelve with zero training are supposed to not work together and also not make any alliances and somehow one of us will survive doing that?”

Willow shakes her head, “Make as many alliances as you want with as many people as you want, but you have to remember that every person in that arena is trying to do the same thing as you by whatever means necessary. If it means they get to go home, they will break your trust, and you’ll break theirs.”

Buffy nods her understanding. Xander remains silent next to her but is clearly listening to the discussion. Willow continues on through the districts. 

District Two volunteers are trained, but rely heavily on weapons since they’re the masonry district. Their victor is Adam, a seventeen year old career that Buffy has seen in videos from previous Game’s recaps and discussions. He killed every other tribute in his Games but forgot to feed himself and find water. Xander makes a joke that he’d rather die from starvation than from a knife but his joking chuckle is quickly silenced when Willow pulls up a picture of the now nearly green and bionic man. The doctors were desperate to keep him alive which led to a stream of chemical nutrients that changed his skin colour as well as metal plates to recover pieces of his body that were lost to infected wounds that he neglected to treat. Giles butts into the discussion to mention that if Buffy and Xander ever have the displeasure of meeting him then they’ll note that he also smells like a dead body. 

Xander jokingly asks how Giles would know what a dead body smells like before he remembers why he’s on the train. Buffy wishes Xander would stop making jokes that aren’t funny. 

Willow introduces District Three and Four, not exactly careers but not untrained tributes either. The school physical education classes are training classes in those districts. Three is the technology district and typically that doesn’t help in the games though occasionally the tributes will have a steady knowledge of plants that should and shouldn’t be eaten. William, or Spike after he drove one through the skulls of six tributes in his games, is the district victor. But Willow explains that he’s not really much of a person at all these days. The lesson Buffy and Xander are supposed to get from him is that even though you need to do what you have to just to make it home, you also have to live with those actions when you’re home again. William was a fifteen year old boy when he was reaped and he came out of the arena being praised for his willingness to entertain and being called Spike. 

For the first time, Xander considers whether Willow is actually the same Willow he knows anymore. Right now, as she goes through tributes and districts the way she used to go through biology and mathematics before an exam, she seems the same. But she’s also killed people, she’s been tortured to entertain the masses. And the people she killed weren’t just in self defense. District Four’s victor reminds Xander of Willow’s own games a little bit. Willow talks about how the arena was already in Anya’s favour since Four is fisheries and the arena was mostly water. 

Anya was fifteen and kept to herself and made no allies, which is typically a risk. But as the death toll slowly crept higher, she started killing the people who had already killed other kids. It was a game of karma, or vengeance. Aside from being theatrical, and getting the Gamemakers to root for her, she was also being strategic. In taking out people who had already killed, largely careers, she was getting rid of people who could beat her in a fight if it came down to it and eventually it did come down to a one on one and she won. 

Xander thinks of Willow at thirteen with a dead body in her arms and an eighteen year old career with a rapidly thrown knife in his chest as the camera zoomed in on the hand Willow had just used to throw it. It’s one of the images Xander can’t ever forget from her games, not that he easily forgets any of it, he skipped school for the almost entire month that Willow’s games lasted. He sat in town square day and night to watch the games and waited with baited breath for the minutes he’d get to see her, alive and still okay. The moment that Twelve’s other tribute was killed, Xander was sure that Willow was a goner. But she’d shocked him and every other person watching when she reached into a bag that used to be filled with supplies to whip out a knife.

The next two are simple, District Five’s industry is electricity and they typically have knowledge of the force fields in the arena and can use the science behind it to their advantage. Buffy finds the victor Willow describes particularly terrifying. Drusilla was twelve when she went into the arena and everyone underestimated her to the point that some tributes forgot she was even in the games. Drusilla eventually won her games by letting the others underestimate her, but when she came out the games had changed her so badly that she hadn’t even had a victor's interview or tour. Drusilla herself isn’t what terrifies Buffy, what happened to her is because Dawn was one slow reaction from Buffy away from being dead or being like Drusilla. Twelve years old and forced to kill other people just to make it home alive. 

Willow pauses after her description of Drusilla. “The two of you are from District Twelve, you  _ will _ be underestimated. Let it happen. Don’t show off to prove your opponents wrong, don’t train at things you’re already good at during group training. If you’re underestimated your opponent won’t be ready for you to fight back and that means your chances of winning are higher.”

Giles chimes in, “But you are both eighteen, which puts you at an advantage, whether your skills are the most developed or not. It’s likely that some of your opponents will be smaller than you, you can use that to your advantage,” He pauses and looks over Buffy, “Or… maybe not.”

Buffy furrows her eyebrows at him, “Hey!”

Xander snickers while Willow clears her throat. “That wasn’t a shot at you, it’s the reality. I was thirteen and taller than some of my sixteen year old opponents.”

Buffy shrugs and lets Willow continue. She does and she talks about District Six, transportation. They don’t have many advantages in the arena. Though they’re typically some of the more charismatic tributes in the interviews and receive many gifts from sponsors when they’re in the arena. Their most well known victor was a sixteen year old named Kendra who only killed one person in her games. She avoided conflict and survived off the parachutes the sponsors sent until the last other tribute hunted her down and she beat him. Willow reminds Xander and Buffy that just because the Capitol wants them to, they don’t need to kill every person they come across. Xander doesn’t think he’ll get the chance to consider killing someone else. 

Buffy knows she’ll do whatever it takes to see Dawn again. Even if that means killing someone.

Willow pays no mind to the tributes in front of her as she moves on to District Seven. “District Seven, forestry. It’s tributes are good with axes, and knives, and other things used to cut and carve wood. Their victor is a personal favourite of mine, and a good friend. Faith was eighteen when she was reaped last year. The careers last year were strong and eventually killed all the tributes except her. And in return she killed them and looked at the cameras and reminded people what the games are actually about - punishing the people of the districts for daring to fight for their rights to live well and safely. In her Victor’s interview she demanded that they take a break from the regular Hunger Games and send in the Capitol’s children, just to change it up a little. It was awesome, and stupid.”

Buffy doesn’t think it sounds awesome, she thinks it sounds cruel. Xander doesn’t understand why it was stupid, he remember’s Faith’s victor interview, she seemed cool and smart. If not deeply traumatized. Xander doesn’t need to voice his confusion as Willow explains, “The Capitol will love you if you win, and they will love you if you say things that inspire a revolution. But they will also punish you for reminding people that life has not always been this way. Faith grew up with two parents and two younger siblings and she had a boyfriend when she went into the games. By the time she finished her victory tour, they were all killed by mysterious events. Fires and drownings and trees falling on them and axes accidentally cutting into their jugulars.”

Both of the tributes stare at Willow and she tries not to think about Jesse and his parents who took her in without a second thought when her parents were hired by the Capitol and left her in Twelve. She tries not to think about the fire that killed the three of them just days after she started bad mouthing them on her tour. Giles watches Willow fidget as she speaks, trying not to play with the metal on his left ring finger. Trying not to think of his own callousness when Willow started speaking up against the Capitol. Willow shakes her head and continues. “But that was everyone she loves who is disposable to the Capitol. So, she keeps talking back against their oppression. You can win the games and the people of the Capitol can love you, but if President Snyder or anyone in the government thinks you’re a threat, then they will make sure that you are very aware of what you have to lose.”

Xander swallows and starts to consider the way he remembers Willow speaking during her victory tour but Buffy cuts off his train of thought. “She sounds insane, I mean, who would put their family in danger like that?”

Xander watches as Willow slowly turns red and he remembers being ten and accidentally dropping her favourite book in the mud and seeing that face and is immediately worried for Buffy’s life. Giles defuses the situation, chuckling darkly. “Buffy, they don’t exactly give you a hand book that says, ‘if you go against us we will kill the people you love’. Faith didn’t know until it was too late.”

Buffy hums but still thinks it’s dumb. “But you said she is still saying things against the Capitol, so what? She’s just never going to care about a person again?”

“She’s got the right idea.” Giles mumbles, though only Willow can hear it.

Willow rolls her eyes at him and focuses back on Buffy, “Giles, a couple other victors, and I are the only people Faith actually shows that she cares about. Unfortunately for the Capitol, well known victors aren’t disposable and if we die, the people will care enough to find out what actually happened.”

Buffy nods, “Oh.”

Willow’s tone is semi-harsh when she says, “Yeah.”

Xander considers asking Willow about what the Capitol did to punish her, but seeing the thin ice that Buffy is standing on, decides that adding more weight would not be a good idea.

Willow’s eyes flicker when they get to District Eight and Buffy wonders why since in terms of famous victors, Eight’s is probably the least graphic, even the photo Willow displays on the screen looks softer than previous ones. Willow explains that District Eight is textiles and that often helps in colder arena climates, they’re also usually proficient at building shelters in wet conditions.

Buffy spots Giles looking away from the table as Willow begins, “Tara Maclay, fourteen. She won the games by hiding until it was just her and another tribute left. They played the starvation game until the audience and the Gamemakers got bored and then they released wolves into the arena, both her and the other tribute, a male from district three, were attacked. Maclay only won because the wolves killed the boy faster.”

Willow thinks of the day she met her. Tara’s games were one year after her own and though typically victors don’t become mentors until they are at least eighteen, Twelve had a position that needed filling. Tara was in her room recovering and Willow stumbled by, feeling empathy for this girl who managed to retain her innocence despite being shoved into an arena of death and told to claw her way out. 

_ Tara’s been out of the arena for she doesn’t know how long and she’s seen the mentors for different districts rumbling through the halls, her own, Wesley, even stopped by for a moment to awkwardly congratulate her. She tries to groan through the pain that she feels  _ everywhere _ but her vocal chords strain as she can feel them basically shake in her throat. She can recall the wolves focusing on her throat as they tried to tear her apart, but she stops herself before the doctors have to sedate her again. _

_ She watches as more doctors and escorts and mentors go by until one of them finally stops in the doorway. It’s the redhead from Twelve that she thought was another tribute until the interviews happened and she was absent. She steps through the doorway. Smiling with tight lips and no joy she says, “Hey.” _

_ Tara gives her a wave and a very soft, “H-hi?” _

_ The redhead laughs a little at the question in it and Tara can’t help but smile at the sound. “Sorry, you don’t know me. Just, you’re a victor now, and I know that you’re going to have to be a mentor since you’re the only living female victor in Eight now. And you’re my age and mentoring can be lonely especially when all the other mentors look at you like you’re a child because, well, we are, but we’ve also been through the same things they have. Also congrats on the whole living thing, that’s a win even if it doesn’t feel like it.” _

_ Tara smiles softly, dazed from the rambling and the many drugs in her system, “Y-you t-talk a lot.” _

_ The redhead blinks. “I’m sorry. Are you not a big fan of talkers?” _

_ Tara shakes her head slightly, careful not to jostle the bandages or tubes. “No, d-definitely not that, I need t-t-talkers since I don’t t-talk a lot, probably l-l-less now with the whole wolves t-trying to rip my th-throat to pieces and st-stutter th-th-thing. J-just, y-you didn’t t-t-tell me your n-name.” _

_ Tara watches the girl's face turn red to match her hair but notes the lines through her skin that remain white, she imagines they’re scars from Willow’s own game, poorly hidden when she was ‘fixed’ after them. Tara’s only been awake a few hours and she knows that what the games did to her can’t be fixed. Her stutter is the least of her worries when she doesn’t want to fall asleep in case she sees the bright yellow eyes of the wolves again. She watches the girls short hair spin around her face as she shakes her head. “Sorry, my name’s Willow.” _

_ To Willow’s outstretched one, Tara offers a mutilated hand. “Mine is T-Tara, but you p-p-probably already k-know that.” _

_ Willow smiles at her and Tara tries not to focus on how much she already likes the girl standing in front of her. She watches Willow’s face shift as she actually looks at Tara’s state. “How are you,‘victory’ and mutilated body aside?” _

_ Tara isn’t sure she really wants to talk about it, the doctors keep asking too, but the way that Willow looks at her makes it seem like she actually wants to hear the answer, so Tara tells her. “I d-d-don’t want to sleep, whenever I fall asleep I j-just see it happening again and again and I’m  _ so _ t-t-tired but I c-can’t sleep.” _

_ Willow nods at her. “It’ll get better. I mean, you’ll still have nightmares I still do and so does Giles and it’s been like twenty years since his games. But the drugs you’re on so the pain doesn’t kill you are making everything more vivid, so it seems like you can actually still feel yourself getting hurt, but it’s not real, not anymore anyway.” _

_ Tara is soothed by the thought that it won’t be forever, though she’s still uncomfortable at the thought that she’ll still have the nightmares. Willow notices. “So, um, this is going to seem creepy and if you’re uncomfortable just tell me and I’ll go, but when I woke up I was scared of the nightmares too and Giles would sit next to my bed and wake me up as soon as I seemed like I was uncomfortable and I can do that for you, if you want. Or not, if you don’t want. Completely up to you.” _

_ Tara feels relieved at the offer and Willow seems too awkward for it to be ill-intentioned so she smiles and says, “That’d be c-cool.” _

_ The smile on Willow’s face makes it worth it even if it is a little strange. Plus, from that moment on, Tara never wakes up terrified that she’s alone. _

Xander tilts his head and speaks, breaking Willow from her thoughts, “What’s that supposed to teach us, stay away from wolves?”

Willow wants to shout at him, to tell him not everyone’s trauma has to teach something, that sometimes it's just trauma, but she doesn’t because this is actually supposed to teach them something, even though she occasionally wakes up from the screams that those wolves cause to this day. “It’s supposed to teach you that the Gamemakers don’t just want you to win, they want you to make it entertaining. If you win by hiding away, you’ll be punished, if you win by simply trying to outlive your fellow tributes, you won’t win at all.”

Buffy squints. “Well the Gamemakers want a winner don’t they?”

Giles steps in to answer, “No, the Gamemakers want  _ entertainment _ , for their audience, that means a winner. But if the most entertaining Games included every tribute dead, then the Gamemakers would kill all of you.”

Buffy looks disturbed by the revelation, Xander accepts it.

  
  


The next three districts seem quicker. Willow tells them about District Nine and their tribute, Fred Burkle who was eighteen and a tech genius that used the platform mines to kill her opponents quickly. Those games had only lasted four days. Xander doesn’t make a joke this time, he remembers seeing those games on TV and hearing his dad laugh about it while he stared at the pink mist left behind. He doesn’t see any humour in that. Buffy rapidly starts going through any special knowledge she knows as Giles reminds them that there are more than just the trails of brute force or stealth to win the games. If you know how to use something then use it, even if you don’t know it’ll work.

District Ten is the livestock district which means they’re good with knives and their victor is apparently Giles’ ex-girlfriend. Both Willow and Cordy tease him about it as Xander and Buffy watch on fascinated and slightly terrified by the knowledge that victors apparently date each other. Olivia was fifteen when she went into the games. Her final opponent was killed when he threw an axe at her only to find out that they were at the edge of the arena when Olivia ducked and the axe ended up killing him. Giles tells the two of them to pay attention to the arena, to always know where it ends and where you are in relation to the cornucopia. 

District eleven is agriculture and they have the second lowest number of victors next to Twelve since their victors usually win in a game of ‘don’t eat the toxic plants’. One of the anomalies to this is Amy Madison who was sixteen and not a fantastic fighter but who annoyed her opponents enough so that they became sloppy  and inaccurate as they fought her until she won. Giles chimes in that they’re still kids going through puberty, so if you can win by using emotions, use them to your advantage. Willow adds that if they meet Amy, they’ll probably understand why her opponents got sloppy. Cordelia rolls her eyes at Willow and insists that she’s not that bad. Both Willow and Giles rebut that she  _ is _ that bad.

And then Willow gets to District Twelve and there is a picture of Willow, though younger and softer, on the screen. Both Buffy and Xander remember the girl staring back in the photo. Giles does too. He remembers her, scared and silent on the train while the male tribute that year, Andrew, had babbled on and on through his nervousness. Giles was certain that her death would be another one he carried on his shoulders but she stands before him today, trying to help another kid survive the games. “You obviously know that District Twelve is coal, usually for boys that means you have some strength built up from mining. For girls that doesn’t mean much at all unless you’re poor.” 

Willow rakes her eyes over Buffy’s fairly new clothes and nods to herself. Focusing on Xander she says, “Your advantages will be in hand to hand combat, if there are no weapons, it’s likely you will be able to overpower them,” She turns back to Buffy, “You’ll have to work on using your opponent’s body weight against them. I imagine you’re agile, which will help.”

Straightening her shoulders as if bracing herself for a fight, Willow ventures on. “Me, thirteen years old. I was underestimated because of my age and my district.” 

Xander watches Willow furrow her eyebrows as if in pain, Giles stands up out of his chair, holding an arm out as if to say to Willow, ‘you don’t need to do this.”

Willow ignores him. “I collected all the weapons I could find around the arena, keeping them in my backpack as me and Andrew, the other tribute, tried to avoid being found by careers or other tributes. Eventually, when there were only eight of us left, another tribute found us and before either of us knew, Andrew was dead. And then I started using the weapons I found. Eventually there was just me and an eighteen year old career from One and he found me and instead of killing me, he started torturing me. He said he ought to make it entertaining. But I still had a knife and while he kept talking about how weak I was because of my age and my district and the fact that I cried over Andrew, I killed him.”

Willow takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “If you can be underestimated, be underestimated. But  _ never _ underestimate your opponents.”

Willow closes her laptop and stacks the notebooks back on top of it and pulls them all off the table into her arms. Shifting to leave, she sighs, “I need a drink.”

Xander furrows his eyebrows at that. “You’re eighteen.”

Cordelia chimes in, “Oh, once you win the games you are given access to illicit products regardless of your age.”

Giles calls after Willow, “Get me a scotch.”

An affirmative shout rings out from the next car over and Giles hums. Buffy leans back in her chair, rubbing her face with her hands. “So we just have to memorize all these things about the districts? I can’t remember my own mother’s birthday sometimes and you expect me to remember how textiles will help in an outdoor arena?”

Xander nods his agreement, “Yeah, I mean, I appreciate the help, but it’s not actual training.”

Giles laughs, “No, I suppose it’s not. But, we can’t exactly start training you right now. There’s also the fact that there is no actual way to train you for the games, we don’t know what the arena is like or what this years tributes are like or even what you’re willing to do to survive. Realistically, all the advice we should give you is ‘be prepared to kill’, but Willow has taken the time to find overarching knowledge about each district that puts you at an advantage.”

Buffy blinks as his tone becomes harsher. “So, I’m sorry, if it seems useless that you’re being spoon-fed knowledge that might keep you alive. But you’re about to be tested on that knowledge in a game of life or death, so, perhaps you should get over your aversion to education and focus on preparing to watch yourself tear the life from another human being.”

Xander clears his throat, uncomfortable with Giles’ harsh tone. “Not looking to piss you off anymore, it’s just that Willow basically just told us we don’t  _ have  _ to kill, I mean that girl, Tara…”

Giles cuts him off with the same sharp tone as before. “Tara Maclay was an anomaly. Either get used to the idea of killing someone, or get used to the idea of someone killing you.”

Willow comes back into the room with three drinks in her hands. She passes the scotch to Giles and a bright pink tube to Cordelia. Cordelia looks delighted at the surprise, “How sweet!”

Willow smiles at Xander and Buffy as she takes a sip of the burgundy liquid, “So, excited to stop being a kid?”

Xander swallows as he considers how willing he is to die just to get out of the games. Buffy grips her chair next to him as she considers exactly how many lives she would take to make it back to Dawn, if it’ll even be worth it if apparently she won’t even be  _ her _ anymore if she lives through the games. She decides that if it takes twenty three lives, then it’ll be twenty three lives. Including the boy sitting next to her.

They both feel as the pattern of the train’s rumbling shifts and Cordelia jumps up excitedly. “Oh, we’re here! The two of you are going to love it, Willow here insists that it’s the worst place in Panem but anyone could see the way her eyes light up every time we arrive.”

Willow just offers a tight smile at the comment and Giles bites back a comment about how that likely has less to do with the city and more to do with the blonde she gets to see in it. 

Cordelia pushes Xander and Buffy towards the windows of the train and the both of them gasp at the city in front of them. They’ve both seen newsreels and pictures in class but the sight before them is astounding, and it’s only heightened by the massive crowd that stands before them cheering, calling their names despite the fact that all the two of them have done is walk to a stage. 

Buffy looks through the crowd, trying not to look for her father’s face in the white suits of the peacekeepers. As she scans the crowd, Xander looks out as well, pensive for a moment before he decisively raises his hand and waves, causing the crowd’s roar to grow louder.

Cordelia turns back to smile at the mentors and Giles nudges Willow and smiles a small smile. In a voice only Willow can hear, he says, “He might have a chance.”

Willow hears the words and only looks forward, her arms wrapped around her torso, sparks of hope playing in her eyes.

  
  



	3. i wish that it was easier to kiss you on the mouth

Xander has been trying to keep it together. He knows that he’s probably going to die in a couple days. He knows that he’s supposed to be mad at Willow but being so close to her just makes him want to hug her and talk to her. He knows that Buffy is his competition as soon as they’re in the arena but he’s had a crush on her since the seventh grade and doesn’t really know what to do about  _ that _ . Additionally, his designer, Darla, is currently waxing any existing facial hair off of his face and it freaking hurts. So, Xander is trying to keep it together but the forces of nature seem to not want him to do that.

Typically he tries not to think about how unfortunate his life is. Between shitty and deadbeat parents who couldn’t even be bothered to show up to say goodbye to him and dead or inaccessible friends, the past few years of his life have been hard on him. He spent most of them working in the mines between school in the hopes that his father would be asleep and therefore sober when he got home. He hadn’t realized the toll it was starting to take on his body until he was standing naked in front of the mirror in his remake room. He looks at his ribs, a little too present through his skin and wonders if there’s a way Darla can hide that or if it’s something she’s used to - starving kids from Twelve with protruding ribs coming into her room to see it decorated with miscellaneous bullshit that could feed them for years. He looks at his ever-dirty hands that now look clean, any signs of dirt or grime removed by chemicals that make his hands smell funny. He can’t remember his hands ever looking that clean.

It makes him miss Jesse, who used to always give him shit about how dirty his hands and nails were, but always invited him over because they had enough water that his parents wouldn’t scream at him for wasting it. Not like Xander’s would’ve. The hours he would spend at Jesse’s - eventually Jesse and Willow’s - house are the thing he misses most when he thinks about either of them. Willow would always actually be trying to do homework while he and Jesse messed with her. Jesse always said Willow could probably be a Gamemaker since she was so good with technology, it would’ve been a way for her to get out of Twelve. But Willow always shook her head and said she didn’t want to go anywhere if the two of them weren’t there too. 

It always made Xander think of Willow showing up one night when he was at Jesse’s when they were ten with a bag over her shoulder and clearly wet eyes. Her parents had left to take jobs to be doctors in the Capitol and they hadn’t been allowed to take her with them. And they still left. Xander remembers how angry he felt then, but he remembers more clearly how angry Jesse’s parents had been. Jesse’s parents weren’t like his or Willow’s. They actually cared, they knew everything about Jesse’s life. They knew everything about his and Willow’s, too. He misses them nearly as much as he misses Jesse. He knows that if they were alive, they would’ve come to his room to say goodbye. They would’ve offered him something to fight for. But they’re dead. And his only connection to them left is someone he is still angry at, even if he misses her.

*

Willow is quiet as her and Giles walk through the wide halls of the Remake Building. Willow thinks it used to be a full hospital before they started using it to prepare the tributes and repair the victors when they came out of the games. Giles is humming next to her and Willow shuffles, wanting to talk but not wanting to argue. She takes a breath and Giles’ humming stops, as if he can tell she is about to speak. “I know you don’t think the Capitol would mess with a reaping, but I think it’s my fault Xander is here.”

She shoves her hands in her pockets as they keep walking. Giles breathes in loud enough that Willow can hear it. “Okay. But Willow, even if they did facilitate his reaping, there’s nothing that you can do now except train him and hope that he makes it out alive.”

Willow nods, blinking back angry tears that are forming in her eyes. She fists her hands into the seams of her pants. “I like Buffy.”

Giles nods. Willow sighs, “We need to help them both.”

Giles hums and they return to silence. Giles starts to fiddle with the watch in his pocket as the two of them keep walking around the building, looking for any distraction while Lorne and Darla tend to Buffy and Xander. He’s still fiddling with it when he notices Willow’s demeanor change out of the corner of his eye. Nearly bouncing, Willow turns to him, both of them stopping. “I am, uh, gonna go see if, um, Lorne has any ideas about the opening ceremonies this year.”

Giles follows Willow line of sight and sees what the obvious lie was about. Spotting Tara, he smiles at Willow. “Tell her I say hello.”

Willow nods quickly before she nearly runs down the hall towards the blonde.

Not paying attention to her surroundings, Tara gasps when a hand on her elbow whisks her away from the conversation she was having with Faith and quickly into a nearby closet. When the figure in front of her turns on the light, Tara breaks into a wide grin, “ _ Willow _ .”

Willow wears a matching grin as she grasps Tara’s face and pulls her in for a deep kiss. Pulling back she laughs, relieved like she always is when she gets to see her. “Hey, sweetie.”

Tara moves back in, pulling Willow in by her lapels and placing kisses across her face as she giggles under her lips. “I missed you.”

Willow lets her hands fall from Tara’s cheeks to grasp onto her hands. “How are you?”

Tara shrugs, still smiling at the sight of Willow. “The usual, listening to Wesley lecture the tributes while I try not to stutter through introducing myself.”

Willow smiles sweetly and squeezes her hands. Tara tilts her head, already knowing about Xander being reaped and asks,  _ “How are you?” _

And Willow nods and says, “I’m fine, I mean it’s fine… I’ll…” And then her face crumples as she tries to convince herself that it’s okay that her best friend is going to die because of her. As she starts to cry, Tara pulls her into her arms whispering into her ear. “You’re okay. He seems strong, maybe he’ll make it out. Maybe you’ll get to talk to him again.”

Willow shakes her head against Tara’s shoulder. “It’s my fault.”

Tara hushes her. “It is  _ not _ your fault.”

Willow moves her head insistently. “It  _ is, _ I couldn’t just keep my opinions to myself. Tara there’s  _ so _ many people that are dead because of me, I don’t want Xander to be added to that list.”

Tara rubs the tears running down Willow’s cheeks away and hugs her again. “You are not at fault because the Capitol killed the people you love. They are the ones who killed them, not  _ you _ or your words.”

Willow doesn’t agree but hums anyway. Tara runs her hands up and down Willow’s arms, not wanting to stop touching her when they only have these few weeks in the Capitol. She smiles sweetly at her, “How’s Trixie?”

As soon as Willow’s eyebrows furrow Tara realizes that she shouldn’t have asked that question. “I don’t know. When I realized they bugged my house I ran to Giles’ house in the middle of the night and when I came back she was gone.”

Tara pushes the hair falling out of Willow’s bun back behind her ears. “That’s okay. She’s tough, I’m sure she’s okay. Maybe she found another family, she’s too cute for people to just walk past.”

Willow nods. “How’s Miss Kitty?”

Tara smiles as she speaks. “She’s growing so fast. She’s staying with Doyle while I’m gone. He’s a grouch but even he has a soft spot for her.”

Willow smiles back. She leans forward again. Trailing kisses up Tara’s neck she whispers. “I missed you.”

Tara hums as her eyes close at the contact and Willow’s hands start to wander, coming to rest on the small of Tara’s back before dipping lower. Sticking her hands into the back pockets of Tara’s pants and squeezing, she starts to graze her teeth along the blonde’s neck. She affirms again, her mouth against Tara’s neck, “I  _ missed _ you.”

Tara moans before using her arms to place some distance between her and Willow. “I, uh, definitely miss you, and I definitely miss  _ that _ . But, we are currently in a closet…”

Willow snorts and Tara gives her a mock glare but keeps smiling, “You're not funny.” Focusing, she continues, “The point is, maybe we should continue this at a later time instead of when Faith just watched me get dragged into a closet and anyone could come and open this door.”

Willow sighs dramatically,  _ “Fine, _ but you owe me.”

Tara smirks at her. “I can think of a few ways I could make it up to you.”

Willow laughs and pulls Tara in for a final kiss before she pulls open the door and they both exit and are greeted with Faith’s smirking face. Noticing the blush on both of their faces, Faith’s smirk only grows. “Hot.”

Tara rolls her eyes at the brunette but Willow smiles at Faith and says, “I know, right?”

Tara hits her lightly on the arm. “I don’t know why I put up with the both of you.”

Faith smiles sweetly and says, “Probably the popularity.” At the same time that Willow says, “Definitely the screen time.”

They look at each other and laugh and Faith pulls Willow into a side hug. “It’s good to see you, kiddo.”

Willow snorts. “I’m barely a year younger than you.”

Faith shrugs, “A year’s a year.”

Tara smiles at the two of them before a familiar voice starts to call her name. The three of them spot Wesley and Tara nods at him. Turning back to her girls she offers a small wave, “I’ll see you guys later.”

Faith nods, “Seeya.”

Willow smiles. “You will.”

Once Tara has disappeared around the hall’s corner, Faith turns back to Willow. “Lorne came around while you were, uh,  _ busy, _ said he wanted to see you whenever you could.” Faith scuffs her feet before asking, “So, they got your boy? Xander is his name, right?”

Willow nods as the two of them start to walk, Faith leading the way. “I think they made it happen, I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

Faith shakes her head. “Someone you love getting sent to their death is never a coincidence.”

Willow exhales, relieved at not having to argue her point. “I think if we checked that bowl it would’ve been his name thousands of times.”

Faith hums. “There’s some rumblings in the districts. 7, 8, 11, 12, people are starting to notice the disparity, the way that the Capitol citizens can afford countless gems and lavish houses while us in the bottom districts are dying daily from starvation. They’re starting to buy into what you, me and countless other victors have been saying for years. Something’s finally coming.  _ Change  _ is coming.”

As they walk Faith looks over her shoulder at the only person who understands her anger. “We’re going to make them pay.”

Willow nods and they continue on in silence.

Faith looks back again. “He would’ve loved to be here for this, y’know.”

Willow instantly knows who she’s talking about. She agrees, “Yeah. He spent so much time trying to convince me that the stuff the Capitol put us through was worth it as long as someone else started to understand what is actually happening here.”

She shakes her head. “But I guess that doesn’t matter now.”

Faith stops walking to put her hand on Willow’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Oz chose his fight long before he met you. Before he was even a victor he was running around town leaving flyers with info the Capitol doesn’t want people to have. He fought for as long as the Capitol was going to let him. His death had nothing to do with your fake little romance. The Capitol would’ve killed him eventually.”

Willow s hrugs, “Yeah, I guess.”

Faith nods.  _ “Yeah. _ ” Shifting her shoulder toward a door, Faith clears her throat. “Well, this is where you get off. I’ll see you at the ceremonies if I don’t see you earlier.”

Willow smiles, “I’ll see you.”

Faith walks away and Willow turns to enter Lorne’s main design room. 

*

_ Willow sits on the metal counter in Lorne’s main room in the Remake Building, her legs swinging beneath her, making a light beat echo through the room. Next to her, sitting in a chair and sketching out a dress of flames, Lorne can nearly feel the anxiety rolling off of her in waves. Never one to let things lay dormant, Lorne starts to speak without looking up from the charcoal and paper, “So, honey, do you wanna talk about whatever’s bothering you or do you wanna play the game where I pretend you can actually help me even though I’ve been doing this job for years without your help?” _

_ Willow sighs and her legs stop swinging as she pulls them up onto the counter with the rest of her body. At Lorne’s look she pulls her shoes off, and Lorne nods his approval. “I need to ask you for some advice that is going to make me seem very young - and yes I know I’m young and still a kid and all that stuff, but I still feel dumb for asking it. So, I need you to keep your ‘kid’ comments to yourself right now.” _

_ Lorne hums a non-communal agreement. “Fire away, Will-o-wisp.” _

_ Willow rolls her eyes at the man and shifts so she’s facing him more, crossing her legs, she starts to play with the seams of her jeans. “Hypothetically, if I were friends with someone and I know that I am  _ hypothetically _ someone they might date and I know I like them, how do I know if the signals I’m getting are real flirting signals or just stupid my-brain-is-ruining-my-life signals?” _

_ Lorne looks up from his sketch, realizing how important this conversation is. “Well, hon, if the person you  _ hypothetically  _ like is flirting with you, you’ll know. Teenage boys are not subtle.” _

_ Willow hums, an odd look forming on her face as she stretches her neck. There is a lull for a moment, Lorne assumes it’s consideration but realizes it was self-resolution when Willow speaks again. “Are teenage girls subtle?” _

_ Very quickly it clicks with Lorne what is happening. He’s known Willow for a little over two years now and in the year since Willow met Tara, there have been a lot of big That Does Not Seem Platonic moments. So much so that even Giles - who hadn’t noticed for weeks when Jenny started asking him out - notices. Lorne likes Tara, she stops by his rooms nearly as often as Willow does. And because of that, Lorne knows that Tara is definitely flirting with Willow. He had a very similar conversation with Tara a couple weeks ago, though it was more of a ‘how do I find out if my not-platonic friend knows we’re not platonic’ conversation and less of a 'how to know if someone is flirting’ conversation. _

_ He smiles at Willow. Putting his pencil down, and turning fully towards her. “Any teenage girl? Usually not subtle. A certain blonde from District Eight with a very shy disposition and who doesn’t know if you’re into girls? Almost definitely subtle.” _

_ Willow blushes. _

_ Lorne’s grin widens at her. “Ah, so I’m right. This is about Tara.” _

_ Willow smiles warmly. “It’s always about Tara.” _

_ Lorne smirks. “Well wasn’t that cute and sappy and not at all over dramatic.” _

_ Willow laughs and looks down. “So, she might like me too?” _

_ Lorne scoffs. “Might? Honey, anyone with two eyes - hell, even blind people - would be able to see that she likes you.” _

_ Willow brightens, “!” But tries to play it off. “I mean, oh.” _

_ Lorne shakes his head. “Yeah. So, hop on that train before the train loses confidence. Plus, the Capitol loves a good victor romance.” _

_ This shifts Willow’s mood,  _ “No.”

_ Lorne turns inquisitive, “Sorry?” _

_ Willow’s eyes are furrowed as she tries to communicate. “It wouldn’t - she’s more important…” _

_ She sighs to clear her thoughts. “I don’t want her becoming another casualty of my stupidity.” _

_ Lorne nods understanding. “I get that, sweetie. Unfortunately, the Capitol tends to find out about every victor’s private life.” _

_ Willow shakes her head vehemently. “Not mine, not this time.” _

_ She hops off of the counter, clearly focused on some other thoughts racing through her mind. Lorne can’t help but feel bad that a moment of genuine teenage life - something so rare in Willow, and any victor for that matter - turned into a consideration of her life. She walks toward the door, and her fingers move at her side in an untouched wave. “Thanks, Lorne. I’ll see ya.” _

_ Lorne nods. “Stay safe.” _

_ Willow hums and closes the door behind her. “Always.” _

*

Willow slides through the metal door to greet Lorne, and he immediately smiles at her. “You wanted to see me?”

Lorne shrugs. “Yes, but not for anything specific. Just missed my favourite victor.”

Willow snorts. “That’s not true.”

Lorne tilts his head from side to side. “You’re one of two and you get snarky with me much less than ol’ Ripper does. So, it’s pretty true.”

Willow smirks at Lorne. “Just a thought, but he might get snarky because you insist on calling him Ripper.” Her face is more solemn as she continues, “You know he hates that.”

Lorne hums. “I don’t wanna call him Rupert because then I sound like I’m dating him, which, don’t get me wrong, he’s an attractive man.”

Willow scrunches up her face in distaste. Lorne ignores her, “But I like my men a little less traumatized. Which is probably why I’m single in this society. And I can’t call him Giles because I’m not one of you kids.”

Willow rolls her eyes, “You called me will-o-wisp for so long, I’m sure you’re creative enough to come up with something other than Ripper.”

Lorne nods and then looks at Willow expectantly, prompting further conversation.

She shifts, a hand coming to run through her hair. “So, I’ve been thinking…”

Lorne whistles. “Well, I won’t tell Snyder if you don’t. You know how he feels about freedom of thought.”

Willow laughs and continues, “ _ I’ve been thinking _ through ways to get the Capitol people and sponsorships on Buffy and Xander’s sides since they’re from Twelve and they’re eighteen years old and that’s a combination that makes them the least empathetic to people since they’re basically adults so it’s okay if they get murdered and they’re probably starving anyway so it’s just speeding up the process. I have an idea but it might also be stupid and illogical.”

Lorne gestures with his hand for Willow to continue as he plays around with makeup in front of him with a photo of Buffy from the Reaping on his desk. 

Willow nods to urge herself on. “So, the Capitol citizens love romance, right? I mean Spike and Drusilla are both different versions of Absolutely Insane and the capitol still hangs onto their every move as a couple. If we can convince the public that Xander and Buffy are a couple, then maybe they’ll have a higher response rate from the sponsors.”

Lorne hums, “It’s what every kid dreams about - a Capitol-sponsored romance.” He pauses. “Actually, how  _ is _ your girl?”

Willow laughs at the sarcasm in his segue. “She’s good.”

Lorne looks at her thoughtfully. “Y’know, the two of you might be the only non-Capitol citizens who are actually happy when the games roll around.”

Willow looks offended.  _ “We’re not -” _

Lorne holds up his hands. “Woah there, I was just teasing. It’s always nice getting to see the both of you smiling.”

Willow nods. “But actually, what do you think? Think it’ll help with sponsors?”

Lorne hums. “As long as they have better chemistry than you and Oz…”

Willow punches him in the shoulder. “Ass.”

“Ow! Watch the suit!” Lorne exclaims.

Willow rolls her eyes at him. “That didn’t hurt.”

Lorne smiles. “No it didn’t. Plus the entire Capitol believed you and Oz, I don’t see why they wouldn’t believe two kids they don’t even know yet.”

Willow nods. “Good, that’s good.”

Lorne spots something over Willow’s shoulder and Willow turns to follow his gaze. It’s Buffy, hair a little shorter and looking cleaner. The Twelve-born bags under her eyes are hidden by makeup and she stands uncomfortably in a plain dress. She clearly hates it. Willow smiles at her, teasing. “Ah, those dresses, I remember them fondly. I  _ wish  _ I could go back to that day of waxing and scratchy clothes and prodding.”

Lorne scoffs. “You’re dramatic.”

Buffy rebuts him, “No, I think she’s right actually.”

Lorne narrows his eyes. “If you’re this sensitive maybe I should change my design for the ceremonies this year...”

Buffy furrows her eyebrows, concerned. “What do you have planned that I could be sensitive about it?”

Lorne brushes her off, “A later time, let’s see what we can do about those bangs.”

Willow snorts at the subtle criticism. “That’s my cue to leave.” As she walks past Buffy she gives her a smile, “For your sake, I hope he’s learned his lesson about eye contacts.”

Lorne groans from over her shoulder. “Andrew was allergic to  _ everything _ , plus it all worked out.”

Willow laughs. “See you later, Buffy. Lorne, have fun torturing her.”

*

Willow pulls the door shut behind her and winces at the harsh creak that happens as the metal clinks. Approaching from the end of the hall where Darla’s room resides is Giles with his glasses in his hands as he cleans them. Once he is within speaking distance Willow smirks at him. “Was Darla being so much that you feigned an allergic reaction again?”

Giles shakes his head with the inkling of a smile on his face as he purses his lips. “No, actually, just accidentally saw much more of Xander than I would’ve ever liked to have seen.”

Willow laughs at his discomfort as he places his glasses back on his face, looking up into the light of the hall to confirm that they are blemishless. His discomfort shifts to consideration. “I must admit, I had forgotten how exhausting District Twelve was as a child.”

Willow smiles. “Well, you would. It  _ was _ like a billion years ago.”

Giles rolls his eyes. “Yes, you’re very funny. I’m old and perhaps I’d laugh if you hadn’t made that joke in nearly every conversation we’ve had in the past four years.”

Willow’s smile only grows but her response is serious. “I think it’s easier to forget than to admit that because we  _ killed _ other people, we no longer have to suffer the way the people we knew did. We don’t even have to leave our houses for supplies if we don’t have too. Plus neither of us are particularly social. It’s hard to remember hardships when they aren’t in front of our faces the way they used to be.”

Giles shakes his head. “It seems selfish.”

Willow shrugs. “Maybe it is. But I  _ can’t…  _ Even if it wasn’t about putting people I care about in danger I don’t know if I would want to have to talk to people who don’t get it. They always treat us like celebrities or heroes but we were just kids Giles. We weren’t given a choice.”

Giles hums. “We weren’t given a  _ good _ choice.”

Willow nods her agreement and Giles adds, “You're still a kid, Willow.”

She shifts her arms as she stuffs her hands into her pockets. “I guess, but not in the ways that count, and not in the ways that I can feel it.”

Giles nods and nudges her as they walk. “How is she?”

And Willow starts beaming. “She’s good. Wesley is still being Wesley, she still hates having to mentor. Miss Kitty is growing up. I might have to go catch up with  _ Faith _ later.”

Giles nods a smirk playing on his face. “Yes, I’m sure Faith and you will have fun. I must admit, I  _ am _ still sorry about Trixie.”

Willow shakes her head. “Not your fault, I’m the one who went insano and abandoned my cat.”

Giles laughs. “I’m not sure finding out your house is bugged by the government counts as, um, ‘insano’, but I certainly could’ve gone to get your stuff earlier than I did.”

Willow sighs, “I thought we agreed no more life what-ifs?”

Giles nods. “Yes, of course.”

Willow smiles at him, though it doesn’t fully meet her eyes. “Well, great! Plus there’s no body and maybe that means she’s happy somewhere else.”

Giles snorts at the false optimism in her tone. “Absolutely.”

Willow stiffens a little as she walks and tries to determine how to broach this topic. Settling on a path, she speaks, “Not to bring up traumatic memories, but when you visited Xander how did he seem?”

Giles chuckles. “You could try asking him yourself…”

Willow shakes her head quickly. “Oh, this is not guilty ‘I abandoned my friend and now he’s a tribute so I feel even more guilty’ conversation. This is me being a mentor to District Twelve’s tributes.”

Giles nods exaggeratedly. “Oh, well, since I  _ certainly _ believe that, he seemed about as stressed as any other tribute. Maybe not as stressed as Andrew was, but he definitely doesn’t seem excited to be training or here.”

Willow nods. “Buffy seems okay. Obviously not psyched to be going into the Games, but she has something to fight for, that’s the whole reason she is even here. She seems willing to fight, at least.”

Giles looks to Willow. “And you don’t think Xander does?”

Willow shakes her head. “I don’t think he has anything to fight for.”

Giles furrows his eyebrows. “Why’s that?”

Willow explains, “Well, his parents didn’t even show up to his room in the town hall. Even my parents showed up when I arrived here. And Xander was basically my brother growing up. Plus, Jesse and his parents were basically the only people who cared about us. So, when the Capitol started killing my family…”

“They killed his, too.” Giles finishes for her. 

Willow confirms with a sigh, “Yeah.”

Giles seems pensive. “How do we convince the sponsors to help someone who doesn’t have anything to fight for?”

Willow smiles as an easy segue opens. “See, I have this idea, and if you don’t think it’ll work, then you can scrap it. But Xander and Buffy are the same age and they are both fairly attractive in the conventional way. They’re also from a lesser district so they already have a little bit of the pity.”

Giles nods as he encourages Willow to continue. “I think we could do a romance angle, but only if they both agree. We could play it up that Xander had a crush on Buffy when they were in school together but was too shy. And Buffy hadn’t noticed him until they were on that stage together.”

Seeing Giles’ undecided face, she adds, “The Capitol loves a romance, and they love to find one. After Oz…” She sighs and doesn’t finish the sentence, “I was sent money and gifts and food for months. It would get them the support they need as two eighteen year olds from Twelve.”

Giles still seems unsure. “The Capitol may love a romance, but our  _ beloved _ President certainly doesn’t.”

Willow shakes her head. “This won’t be  _ in the Capitol  _ that long. They’re both going into that arena, Giles. They just need to be convincing until one of them is dead. And that’s what Snyder wants, people dead. It’s a win-win for the Capitol.”

Giles nods warily. “And for Xander and Buffy?”

Willow smiles unfortunately. “It’s a lose-lose.”

Giles laughs lightly at that. “Fine. If they both agree, then I will too and we can work out how we want to do this.”

Willow smiles. “Fantastic.”

*

Buffy really hates this outfit. And by hates she means  _ hates _ . It’s black and it’s a weird fabric that pinches in bad places and feels oily on her skin and Lorne keeps making jokes about fire and she hates it. She also can’t look anywhere without the shoulder’s embellishments getting into her peripheral vision and tripping her up. Her only relief is that Xander’s outfit is a mirror of hers, though of course he wears pants instead of a skirt and his arms are sleeveless instead of having a deep v-neck. Wouldn’t want the audience to think that Xander is too feminine. 

Darla smiles from where she enters next to Xander and claps with excitement. “Oh! Buffy you look beautiful!”

Buffy doesn’t feel beautiful and has to try extremely hard not to roll her eyes. She’s simultaneously annoyed and satisfied when both Willow and Giles do it for her. Lorne notices their eyes rolling and scoffs, “Please, just because you’re jealous your ceremony outfits weren’t as good as this.”

Willow smirks. “I don’t know if jealous is the word I would use.”

Lorne glares at her. Giles changes the focus. “So, what is your  _ incredibly _ innovative idea this year?”

Lorne is easily distracted and launches into a description both Buffy and Xander have already heard. “Well, so often we try to use the mining or coal as a design factor but we forget what that coal  _ inspires _ …”

Lorne continues on as Willow silently walks away to join a conversation with two familiar blondes and a brunette. Buffy furrows her eyebrows at the move and Xander also watches on curiously. Giles follows their eyes and waits for their questioning.

Lorne finishes and receives all the compliments he is fishing for. He walks away to confirm that the chariot is properly set up as Xander and Buffy both jump at the chance to ask Giles, “Who are they?”

Giles rolls his eyes. “Really? Lorne just went over the fact that the both of you are going to be set alight with flames and you’re curious about who Willow is speaking to?”

Both Xander and Buffy blink at him and he sighs, “Of course, you’re teenagers.”

Buffy moves her eyebrows and gestures for him to explain. “Right. The blondes are Anya Jenkins and Tara Maclay and the brunette is Faith Lehane, if you’ll recall, they’re precious victors and mentors.”

Buffy furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t get how she likes Anya and Faith, I mean they  _ murdered people _ .”

Giles chuckles. “Well, I wouldn’t define Willow’s friendship with Anya as simple as  _ liking  _ each other. And, in case you forgot, Willow and I have both killed people.”

Buffy shakes her head and Xander just stares silently as he watches the way Willow reacts to Tara with narrowed eyes. “You guys  _ had _ to kill, you didn’t have a choice.”

Giles shakes his head. “We did have a choice and it wasn’t an easy one. But it’s one every tribute has to make. Faith and Anya are both people I care about quite a bit, and while I’m sure it makes it easier for you and many others to say that they were vicious and unforgiving, they are simply human, just like you and all the people you love.”

Buffy is silenced by his words. Xander attempts to break the tension, “Well, hey. They’re all attractive so they’re moral in my book.”

At Giles and Buffy’s matching glares he offers a sarcastic smile.  _ “He joked.” _

Giles shakes his head and walks off as the first chariot starts to move forwards. Cordelia comes and grabs both Xander and Buffy by the hand and leads them to their matching chariot where Lorne stands waiting, the fake flame flickering from the long match in his hand. “Are the two of you ready?”

At Xander’s panicked eyes, Lorne smiles. “Fantastic, into the breach you go.”

As they both stand in the cart, Lorne lights the small string crawling from their shoulders and Cordelia smiles at both of them. “And remember, it’s a performance. You have to convince the crowd that you are strong and ready and  _ fire _ .”

Buffy nods and Xander offers a weak smile as the chariot starts moving. At first they are surrounded only by the walls of the backstage area and the supportive faces of Darla, Cordelia and Lorne paired with the smirking but still supportive faces of Willow and Giles. As they pass by Willow and her group of victors, Willow smiles at them, and Tara offers them a thumbs up only to immediately be copied by Anya who beams at the two of them. Though it slightly frightens him, Xander finds it charming. Buffy is too focused on the once over and smirk that Faith is giving her to notice either Tara or Anya’s support. 

But quickly, they’re in the bright sun with the thumping beat of the drums lining the pathway. The screams of the crowd seem impossible to escape and Buffy tries not to panic under so many eyes and with fire, albeit fake, starting to crawl up her back. Xander hears an increase in the applause and wonders where it comes from until he spots the giant screen ahead, where he sees both himself and Buffy in black, starting to be consumed by fire. He watches the way the crowd reacts and thinks of the sponsors they’ll need to survive and reaches for Buffy’s hand. 

Buffy automatically snatches it back, though not noticeably. Xander whispers, “The crowd will love it, and we need the sponsors.”

Buffy looks around and notices what he did previously. She inches her hand back towards his and lets him pull it, entwined with his, over their heads. The crowd goes insane and Buffy looks forward, serious and trying not to smile at the hope bubbling in her stomach. Xander just tries not to panic as he holds Buffy’s hand

*

Tara isn’t a huge fan of the Capitol. It certainly has its charms. Such as the way the bright lights of the city turn fantastical in the dark of night or the eccentric personalities of its inhabitants or, mostly, the redhead who is always in town at the same time she is.

But mostly the Capitol is huge but empty and lonely and it’s too quiet and it makes her hear things in the silence that she doesn’t want to. Like skin being ripped apart and bones breaking and wolves growling and a hurried knock on her window. Except that last one isn’t her hearing things. She turns quickly towards the window when she hears the light thinking again and nearly jumps out of her skin when she sees a familiar girl standing apparently on air. Quickly opening the window, she pulls Willow inside. “What the hell are you doing?”

Willow smiles at her sweetly. “Coming to visit the woman I love.”

Tara blushes but rolls her eyes. “That’s not what I meant, how did you get out there?”

Willow smiles and points to her shoes. “Fred lent me these. They have really heavy rubber soles so I could walk on the forcefield that stops us and tributes from leaping to our deaths before the Capitol takes them from us.”

Tara raises her eyebrow at Willow. “Really? Is that necessary? You are going to see me tomorrow.”

Willow widens her eyes. “Of course it’s necessary.  _ I love you. _ ”

Tara smiles at the words. “I love you, too. But I know that’s not actually why you came tonight. Is this about me  _ making it up to you?” _

Willow blushes and looks away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about…”

Tara smiles sweetly, letting her hands wander down Willow’s body stopping at her hips to pull her closer as she kisses up her jaw until her hot breath is against Willow’s ear. She bites at her earlobe before she asks, “Are you sure? Because I  _ really  _ wanna make it up to you”.”

Willow takes a shaky breath, leaning into Tara’s mouth. “Okay, that may have been an encouraging factor.”

Tara smirks and leans forward, planting kisses and nipping at Willow’s skin as she slowly descends down Willow’s body until she’s looking up at Willow from her knees. “Oh, was it?”

Willow gasps, “Oh….  _ Yeah.” _

*

_ It’s dark but Willow knows where she is. She can hear the familiar gargle and before she can see him, she knows Andrew is dead in her arms. His fourteen year old body shivering as he chokes on his own blood, the axe Warren threw still embedded in his neck. She doesn’t want to look up so she doesn’t, she just throws the familiar blade and watches it land in a chest. But it’s not Warren’s. _

_ Xander’s warm brown eyes stare at her in shock. As he reaches a hand to his chest, his hand comes back red. He looks down at it. “Willow, what did you do?” _

_ He falls forward and Jesse stands where he was, the same shocked look on his face as he looks at Xander’s body, seemingly unaware of the burns Willow sees working their way out from under his clothes. Willow tries to speak but she can barely croak out his name, “ _ Jesse… _ ” _

_ Tucker stands ahead of her suddenly, an angry glare across his face as the axe rips through him. “You killed my brother.”  _

_ And then Tucker is gone and she sees herself, twelve and hair as long as the skyscrapers in the Capitol with red blood on her hands and a Xander the same age in her arms. “You killed my brother, too.” _

_ The younger her glares. Scoffing, younger Willow pointedly looks down at the body and Willow follows her eyes to see that it’s not Andrew anymore. Spiky orange hair rests against her palms as she runs her fingers through them. “ _ Oz, wake up.”

_ But he doesn’t, he never does. And younger Willow rolls her eyes. “Aren’t you going to take care of that?” _

_ And there’s no more body, just lots and lots of blood as she stares at her hands. And she looks up to apologize, to say she didn’t mean it. But she just starts screaming because the only person left is Tara, dead and hanging from a noose. “Tara!” _

She feels herself jolt as strong hands wrap around her upper arms, a body straddling hers. “ _ Hey _ , Willow. Hey…” 

Tara watches as Willow’s eyes focus on the room and lifts her leg to get off of her but Willow holds her there. “Please don’t let go.”

Tara smiles softly. “Okay.”

As Willow stays quiet, tears flowing down her face, Tara rolls next to her on the bed, still holding on. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Willow laughs wetly. “No.”

Tara raises an eyebrow. “But you’re going to.”

Willow smiles and nuzzles her face into Tara’s shoulder enough that her voice is muffled when she says, “Well, obviously. Otherwise my very beautiful and kind girl will withhold snuggles, which is the opposite of what I want.”

Tara smiles and kisses Willow’s cheek. “Okay, good.”

Willow hums, “You’re so demanding.”

Tara laughs softly. “Only because you’re so stubborn, and don’t think I don’t notice the stalling.”

At Willow’s wince Tara adds, “I know it’s easier not to talk about them, but when you do, they don’t get to take over your life.”

Willow nods against Tara’s neck. “It was the one that starts with Andrew and Warren and then Tucker is there and Jesse and Oz…”

Tara hums into Willow’s hair. Willow continues warily, “But, uh, Xander was there this time and little me, and, um,  _ you _ .”

Tara just keeps listening as Willow explains what happened, stroking her hair and letting her take as long as she needs between voice cracks and hitched breaths. When Willow finishes, Tara sees the turmoil in her eyes and decides it’s okay to change the subject. “Well, I had a nice dream tonight, do you want to hear about it?”

Willow smiles softly against Tara and pulls back so she can see her face, “Tell me about it.”

Tara smiles and gives her a quick kiss. “Well, you were there.”

Willow gasps dramatically. “Really?”

Tara smirks, “Hmm. And we were getting married but it was like the way they do it in the old world sources. You were wearing one of those suits with the black jackets and pants…”

“A tuxedo.” Willow supplies.

Tara nods excitedly. “Yes, that. You looked very, uh,  _ nice. _ I might talk to Lorne about that actually. But, yeah. We were getting married and Giles, Xander and Faith were your best men and Anya and Fred were my bridesmaids and the McNallys were there and my mom was there. Lorne was the officiant and he was super dramatic and he teased us about being clueless babies but then got super emotional. Oz was there and he made fun of you for taking so long to ask me to marry you.”

Willow laughs. “Are you trying to hint at something, Maclay?”

Tara flips onto Willow and rests her forehead against hers, her eyebrows furrowed as the chain around her neck with a ring around it falls out of her shirt. “That’s Rosenberg-Maclay to you.”

Willow beams. “Yes, how could I forget?”

Tara kisses her. “You better never forget.”

Willow kisses back. “So, this wedding, where was it?”

Tara twists her hands into Willow’s. “It was in Eight, in that marsh I told you about, with the tall trees.”

Willow smirks. “A wedding in a marsh?”

Tara shrugs. “Dream logic doesn’t account for wet shoes.”

Willow smiles. “I love you.”

Tara blushes. “I love you, too.”

Willow kisses her softly. Letting go of Tara’s hands so that she can run her own through blonde tresses. Tara hums into the contact.

Shifting slightly under Tara, Willow sighs as she looks out the window to the brightening darkness. “I have to leave.”

Tara smiles, albeit sadly. “Yeah, you do.”

Willow shakes her head. “I’m sorry, this should be easier, you deserve…”

Tara tilts her head earnestly.  _ “Hey,  _ I get to decide what I deserve, and I chose you the moment you stopped by my hospital room.”

Willow blushes. “I know… I just wish we could have that dream. And you could have your huge garden with a bunch of flowers and Miss Kitty and Trixie could both be there and you could wake me up every morning when I try to sleep the day away and Xander could know you and we would get to be happy without having to look over our shoulders all the time.”

Tara smiles, sad and soft. “One day.”

Willow shakes her head. “I don’t know how you’re so optimistic.”

Tara laughs. “Magic… or maybe the brain damage.”

Willow snorts and pulls Tara in for a final kiss. Tara tries to deepen it but Willow laughs against her mouth. “You agreed that I have to leave now.”

Tara gives her pecks between her words, shifting so she is no longer on top of Willow. “You having to leave and me  _ wanting  _ you to are very different things.”

Willow gives her an actual final kiss and smiles. “We still have a couple more weeks. Minimum.”

Tara smiles and nods. “That’s still not enough.”

Willow is already outside the window, the rubber soles of her heavy boots protecting her as she balances on the forcefield beneath her. She smiles and waves, “Forever wouldn’t be enough.”

Tara brightens and says, “I love you.”

Willow nods once before walking out of Tara’s sight. “Me too, always.”


	4. i'd like to die as a child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehe i am very sorry about how long this took, between moving and shitty wifi in my new house,, it has been a struggle but here it is, later than i intended

Buffy hates fighting of any kind, though verbal fighting usually takes the cake after spending years hiding upstairs with Dawn while their parents had screaming matches about stupid things. But right now, she would take her Dad yelling about how the District is falling apart and how that is somehow her Mom’s fault over the weight of the spear in her hand and the bruises she feels forming on her knuckles from the heavy bags. She tries to ignore the other tributes sizing her up as she throws the spear at the dummies in the small hallway surrounding her, just like Giles told her to. But they’re kind of excessive. 

She knows she’s under average in terms of height and she’s on the thin side like every other person in Twelve and that probably looks weird to people who are not from Twelve, especially when she is doing pretty well in training, but it’s still annoying. Before he turned into a Capitol-soldier wannabe, her Dad used to teach her how to defend herself if she ever needed to, so she knows how to fight and she has enough strength to throw a spear pretty freaking well. The point is, there are a lot of people focusing on her doing what everyone is supposed to be doing right now instead of maybe Xander who literally has just been toying with a piece of wood for the hours that they’ve been there. Buffy tries to understand Xander but she doesn’t. She doesn’t get why Giles and Willow even mentor him at all if he so clearly doesn’t want to live through the Games.

She tries not to talk offense to Willow choosing Xander to mentor, they’re friends or whatever, but she is kind of offended because Willow is the female victor and she’s the female tribute and that’s how it works in every other District she’s seen. Plus, Xander is angry at Willow anyway, it’s not like he is gaining anything out of it. And no offense to Giles, but Willow seems more engaged in the current Games than he is. It’s a dumb thing to be hung up on, especially when she should probably be focusing on the fact that her hand is now bleeding from where it slipped on the spearhead in her hand, but she is anyway. A quiet voice breaks her thoughts, “Here.”

Buffy looks up to see a lanky girl with pin straight brown hair offering her a small white case. “It’s a first aid kit.” The young girl inclines her head towards Buffy. “Y’know, for your hand?”

Buffy nods quickly, taking the box. “Yeah, thanks.”

The girl just offers her a smile as Buffy pulls the box open. Feeling awkward, Buffy offers, “I’m Buffy.”

The girl chuckles and Buffy becomes defensive before the girl says, “Obviously. I don’t think there’s a person in Panem who doesn’t know who you are. You’re the first volunteer from Twelve,  _ ever. _ And you did it for your sister, not in some attempt to become a Victor. The whole country is abuzz with your presence in this year's Games.”

Buffy just cringes. “Oh, that’s… something.”

The girl's eyes widen in realization. “Oh, jeez. I’m sorry, my name is Amanda, I’m from Eleven.”

Buffy smiles at the panic in Amanda’s face that reminds her of Dawn, ripping the tape around her hand, she hands the box back to her. “Thanks, Amanda.”

Amanda smiles widely. “No problem!” Bouncing as she turns, she says, “I’ll see you later!”

Buffy just smiles, shoving any grief she feels about another young brunette down to be dealt with at a different time. 

Over the next few days, Buffy sees Amanda watching her quite a few times. She’s pretty good at climbing the metal structure in the training room that was made to echo different types of trees and structures that have been featured in previous Games. Amanda manages to hide away for most of the training days as she loops around the structure most of the time. Until the last day, she probably could’ve been forgotten by any of the tributes from Districts higher than her own. 

But the last day comes and everyone is anxious and teetering on the edge of all the excitement that comes with the knowledge that testing is coming up in the evening. So, everyone is pretty testy. Especially the older guys in the higher Districts, because that’s just how they are anyway. The point is, there’s a lot of energy, so maybe it wasn’t Amanda’s brightest idea to steal one of the crossbows that the boy from District Five has been using. 

It seems like a good idea at the time, Amanda is just desperate to avoid thinking about having to stand in front of a bunch of people and be bad at using weapons. But she quickly regrets it when the guy, whose name she doesn’t remember if she ever knew it at all, starts screaming through the room that someone stole his crossbow. Even though they’re fair game to whoever gets them first. But some of the careers join in as he starts threateningly pacing through the room looking for the culprit. Amanda squirms back, trying to hide away in the shadows of the structure. But, unfortunately her movement causes the crossbow in her hand to clink loudly against the monkey bars that she’s on top of and it calls the attention of Five and everyone whose attention has been called by his infantile screaming. Amanda tries not to start crying under the attention because she doesn’t want to be stupid. She recognizes that she has already been stupid, but that wasn’t crying stupid.

It’s definitely crying stupid now as Five glares at her as he walks forward and starts to climb as the Peacekeepers that line the room start to step forward. Buffy watches from where her attention has been called and begins to move closer but Xander grabs her arm before she rushes forward to punch the asshole from Five. “She’s not Dawn, you don’t need to protect her. That’s the Peacekeepers’ jobs.”

Buffy glares over her shoulder at him but spots the aforementioned Peacekeepers stepping forward to reprimand the Five tribute.

*

Buffy and Xander sit side by side as they watch every other tribute go ahead of them. Buffy tries not to bounce anxiously, especially when Xander seems stupidly calm. She knows his stoicism isn’t actual calm, but it is enough calm that it would make her anxiety-ridden bouncing legs seem excessively more anxious. Buffy watches Amanda pull her fingers as she goes into the terrifyingly beckoning room ahead of them. And then Xander and her are the only tributes left in the room. Buffy doesn’t know if the room is actually dark or if it’s just her mood but the room seems dark. It’s very metal and it reminds her of the hospital rooms in Twelve, she doesn’t remember them well but she does remember them enough that their imprint remains in her brain.

Xander sniffs beside her and Buffy doesn’t know him that well but she knows him enough to not mention it. Instead of letting him be alone, she says, “The day that Dawn was born, I was at school and when I came home I saw her in my Mom’s arms and I thought she was a literal rat.”

Xander snorts as he moves his hand to wipe away whatever is making him sniff. Buffy shakes her head to herself as she keeps talking. “She’s so  _ annoying _ all the time. She used to end up literally on top of me while she was asleep and she snores like a fifty year old man, I mean I don’t get how such a loud noise can come out of someone as small as her. She made us keep a dingy cat I found and she’s smart enough that she could probably be a few grades higher than she is and she makes my life a living hell. But she’s my sister, so that’s her job. But I might not get to see her grow up. And that’s scary and I hate it.”

Buffy furrows her eyebrows at herself. “That was supposed to be comforting but now I’m just sad.”

Xander laughs wetly. “Willow used to make fun of you.”

Buffy turns towards him,  _ “What?” _

Xander shrugs. “Not really making fun of  _ you _ , but Willow, and our old friend Jesse, used to make fun of me about you.”

Buffy tilts her head. At her confusion, Xander explains. “I, uh, might’ve had a crush on you in middle school?”

He finishes like it’s a question but it clearly isn’t. Buffy’s eyes widen. “Really? You didn’t even know me.”

Xander shrugs. “You are -  _ were -  _ a pretty girl who seemed nice enough that you wouldn’t make fun of me and my friends. That’s pretty much all it takes for a teenage boy to develop a crush, sometimes that second part isn’t even required.”

Buffy smiles at him, not catching the slip in his words. “Hey Xander…”

Xander looks up at her words, but the conversation isn’t allowed to go further as the metallic voice of one of the Gamemakers comes through the overhead speaker. “Xander Harris, District Twelve.”

He stands, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. Buffy smiles at him, “Good luck.”

Xander smiles back at her sarcastically. “I don’t need luck, have you seen me fiddle with my hands? I’m unmatched.”

Buffy rolls her eyes.  _ “Go, Xander.” _

And he does. When he walks through the doors, it’s the same training room that he and all the other tributes have been occupying over the past few days, but it’s set up differently. The weapons and supplies are lined up, some of the arrows have been used, there are some plants and pieces of wood that have been moved. Xander just goes for what he knows. He takes an axe in his hand, though he hasn’t been training with them since he doesn’t like holding the weapons he’ll might have to use to murder people when the people he might have to murder are in the same room as him, he has spent years chopping wood to use for carving in his Dad’s old shop. He feels its weight in his hand and is distressed by the lightness it holds. The handle of it is some type of Capitol designed metal that is much, much lighter than the wood that the axes in Twelve are made of. He throws it at the target ahead of him anyway. 

It bounces off, but he is saved from embarrassment by the fact that none of the Gamemakers are actually paying full attention to him. One, dressed in all black, stares at him and Xander is unnerved by the blank but knowing look in his eye, but quickly the man is pulled away by another person tapping on his shoulder. Xander just focuses on making it through the five minutes he’s allotted. He stops throwing the axes when the fifth one bounces off the target and he moves on to some of the last pieces of wood. He looks back up to the people in the terrace and sees that they still cannot be bothered to watch and so he takes the knife that still sits in its holder and starts whittling, ignoring the sting of his fingers every time the wood slips from beneath a knife he isn’t used to. The Gamemakers keep ignoring him and eventually the time runs out, a ding playing over the speaker and he walks out a different door than he came in. 

As he leaves, he hears the faint murmur of the same sound system calling out Buffy’s name and District, though he doesn’t see her appear. Buffy sees him though, through the small window of the door he retreats into. She looks up to the balcony overhead, where the Gamemakers are sitting and chatting and doing other things that aren’t paying attention. She goes about her testing anyway. Though she is just as good at throwing knives, Buffy goes for the spears since more of them are left from the previous tributes. She throws the four spears and is pleased with herself when they sink through each of the targets ahead of her, heavy enough that a couple of the targets split with holes carved by the spears. With pride she looks towards the balcony again, hoping that they would’ve caught her success, but they haven’t.

A little fed up with the way the Gamemakers treat the tributes that get them money, she takes a step back as she faces the balcony, holding the spear over her shoulder like the field sport that is in the school history books. Taking several running steps forward, she throws the spear into the wide opening between the railing of the terrace and the ceiling. She watches it fly forward as she releases it, as it shoots closely past the face of one of the men in the front seats, they turn back towards the training room, eyes wide as their chatter dies down into murmured outrage at the fact that she had the audacity to nearly almost injure them.

Buffy smirks up at them, her eyes glaring and calmly says, “I’m fairly certain your job is to rate me on my training, so maybe you should be watching my freaking training.”

Buffy watches as they all turn their attention to her as she throws the final two spears into the remaining targets. One of the Gamemakers, the same one who watched Xander with semi-interest earlier, smirks as she nails the targets, a plan already forming as to how he can make this year’s Games interesting as the final buzz of the timer calls out the end of the night’s testing. 

*

Willow walks into Darla’s room where she’s sizing Xander for his arena outfit. They both look up and Darla smiles at her. “Hey, Willow. Excited for this year's Games?”

Darla is a little further in the Capitol’s grasp than Lorne, or even Cordy, so her and Willow tend to clash a little in their average conversations, but that’s not important right now so Willow just shrugs at Darla’s question and says, “Sure.”

Xander is looking at Willow but neither of them have acknowledged each other. Willow offers him a stiff and closed off smile. “I have some ideas for you and Buffy in the arena.”

Xander tilts his head in acknowledgement but Darla uses her hands to straighten it as she measures, he cringes at the cracking noise his neck makes. “Shoot.”

Willow nods and begins. “So, Giles and I have one big idea that completely depends on you and Buffy’s opinion, so if you don’t want to do it, that’s cool, we’ll just come up with another one.”

She pauses for a while and Xander’s eyes widen as encouragement to continue. “What’s the idea, Will?”

Both of them ignore the casual shortening of her name and Willow continues, “Right, so, the Capitol people are suckers for a romance story, so Giles and I were thinking that you and Buffy could feign a romance so that you would get more sponsors from the Capitol’s citizens.”

Xander’s eyebrows furrow as he shakes his head quickly, stopping as soon as Darla looks up at him. “No, absolutely not.”

Willow shifts. “You don’t have to do anything dramatic, just mention it in your interviews and hold hands a few times while you’re in the arena…”

Xander cuts her off. “No, the Capitol is going to kill me, they don’t get to make me pretend to love someone. It’s a bad idea, they don’t get to take that away from me, too. And I’m not going to be stupid enough to willingly give it to them.”

There’s something off in his voice and Willow catches it, smirking she says, “Okay, but what’s the real reason?”

Xander glares as he raises his voice, “Willow, as much as you want to pretend you do, you do not know me anymore. I am telling you the truth.”  _ He isn’t,  _ “Please just leave it at that.” 

Willow knows he isn’t telling the truth, but she does leave it at that. She turns to leave and misses the way Xander looks down, silently cursing himself. 

*

Willow isn’t paying attention as she stands outside Darla’s door, waiting for Giles, until there is a man standing behind her, dressed all in black. “Miss Rosenberg.”

She turns to face the man who just leaned over her shoulder and tries not to cringe at the sight. “Caleb, it’s always a great displeasure.”

Caleb chuckles darkly, “Always so brave, you’d think someone as smart as you would know when to stop picking battles. I mean, you’ve already gotten the punishment that you’ve been reaping since, well, your own Reaping. Do you just ignore what you did to the McNally’s or do you just not care?”

Willow clenches her fists at his words, knowing that he does it to get under her skin. She tries to replay Tara’s words, that the McNally’s deaths are the Capitol’s fault, not her own, but the words in her head fall as flat as they had when she heard them. Still, she doesn’t want Caleb to think he won, so she replies, “Don’t you have some child torture to prepare or something?”

Caleb grins at her, “You’d like it if it were that simple, wouldn’t you? To be able to just blame all the dead kids and your trauma on me and Snyder and the other Gamemakers. But you know as well as I do that as much as  _ we  _ create the Games, there are thousands of people that enjoy them enough to encourage us to continue them. So, blame the Capitol all you want, but know there are people, just like you aside from their childhood in the Capitol, who you would have to punish if you and Lehane ever get the vengeance you want.”

Caleb laughs again at Willow’s conflicted face. “I mean,  _ what? _ You think if you ever even inspired a rebellion of people with the same ideas as the two of you that they would spare the people you care about. You think Cordelia or Lorne would get out of it? They are as much a part of these Games continuing as I am. That’s not even counting that between you and Faith, you’ll never get the support of District’s whose children you murdered. You think when Warren Mears’ family thinks of the Games, they think of an unfair punishment to the Districts of Panem?  _ No, _ they think of you, covered in their sons blood, and enjoying his death.” 

Willow tries to hide the way that she’s shaking but Caleb notes it. “If even you are disgusted by your actions, why would anyone in Panem be any different? The only person who came out of the Games innocent is Tara Maclay, and you and I both know that she could never lead a rebellion, she can’t even lead her District’s tributes.”

Willow doesn’t get mad, because being mad on Tara’s behalf isn’t a luxury she or Tara can afford. Instead she just says, “One day, you are going to lose.”

Caleb just smirks wider. “Maybe, but you already have. I can’t imagine what else you have left to lose, especially with that Harris boy getting thrown head first into the arena. I mean, damn, do you guys in Twelve raise idiots on purpose or are Harris and Wells just special?”

Willow walks away from him before she can do something stupid enough to reveal what she has left to lose but he still calls out after her, “But, man. Buffy sure is something. I can’t wait to kill  _ her.” _

Willow furrows her eyebrows as she walks away, knowing that if she turns around to punch him in the face that the satisfaction won’t be worth the punishment. Giles walks out of one of the rooms just as she speeds by. “Willow, what…?” 

She grabs his wrist. “Please just come with me.”

Giles looks over his shoulder to spot Caleb smirking after Willow and sees the frustrated tears building in her eyes. “Your yearly stand off with Caleb?”

Willow rolls her eyes. Giles laughs humorlessly, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Willow scoffs, “He started it.”

Giles’ eyes widen in exasperation. “Yes, the Capitol takes fondly to explanations of a five year old’s caliber.”

Willow shrugs. “It’s fine, he was an asshole and said shitty things, I stood and took it and tried not to punch him. There’s nothing he or anyone should punish me for.”

Giles nods. “Yes, well, the Capitol doesn’t care if it  _ should  _ punish you, it cares if it _ can.” _

Willow hums, already knowing the truth of Giles’ statement. Changing the subject, she asks, “Did you talk to Buffy about the romance plan?”

Giles nods briefly. “Yes, certainly. I believe her exact response was ‘as long as there is no excessive swapping of spit’ she’ll do anything that makes her chances of getting home higher.”

Willow laughs at Giles’ face as he relays Buffy’s words. Giles returns, “Did you speak to Xander?”

Willow grimaces, “I did, he seemed adamant that it is a very stupid and bad plan.”

Giles hums, “For what reasons?”

Willow sighs, “If he had given any, I would tell you them, believe me.”

Giles shakes his head, “So, we’ll think of something else that they’ll both agree to. We still have time.”

Willow doesn’t have the same hopes. “I don’t think Xander plans on making it out.”

Giles nods. “Yes, I had noticed that as well.”

Willow shifts as they walk, stretching her shoulders like she’s trying to escape something. “How are we supposed to convince him of a plan to win if he doesn’t want to.”

Giles bumps his shoulder against her shifting one. “Perhaps he doesn’t need a plan. You were about as hopeful going into your Games as he was, and he certainly seems to care more for Buffy than you had for Andrew going into them.”

Willow nods. “Maybe, but Xander isn’t like me, even if someone kills Buffy and that makes him mad or sad or whatever, he won’t…” Willow smiles softly as she pauses and Giles can tell that she’s remembering something. “He isn’t like  _ us _ , he’s good.”

Giles snorts. “I appreciate your faith in him, Willow, but I can think of exactly one person who survived the Games who is technically morally good. And you know much better than I exactly how morally good she feels.”

Willow looks down at her feet as she walks. “Yeah, I know that. It would just be nice to love someone who isn’t going to die or be doomed to relive their trauma for the rest of their lives.”

Giles chuckles. “It certainly would. But, who knows maybe one day all of us victors can runaway and hide in our own secret District.”

Willow, still staring at her feet, doesn’t catch the yearning and knowing glint in Giles’ eyes as he says it. So she just smirks. “Yeah, definitely. And one day I’ll be able to teleport from District to District on a whim.”

Giles smiles at her and keeps his knowledge to himself. As much hope as he puts into it, a vague note from his dead wife isn’t much proof at all of a potential safe haven. Though it would be nice to get away and not have to flirt his way through conversations with Capitol citizens to appease Snyder or have to watch other victors get sold to Capitol elites or watch Tara and Willow pull themselves apart just trying to keep each other alive or watch innocent child after innocent child either be brutally murdered or be traumatized so extremely that the atrocities the Capitol will subject them to after they supposedly win will seem easy. Escape is just a dream that Jenny left him with, but it’s a nice dream all the same. 

*

Xander tries not to hold his breath as Clem Skinnman appears on the TV with the current Head Gamemaker, Caleb Gilroy. He tries not to and fails, because he knows his number is going to be low and that he is going to be underestimated or whatever according to Willow and Giles, but he’s pretty sure he’ll actually just be estimated accurately. He’s not built for murder, he’s built for coal mines and building furniture and hiding in the basement when his parents are drunk. He deserves the low number he’s going to get, even if Cordelia gasps and Willow won’t look at him and Giles will murmur words of support that both of them know aren’t sincere. 

But Xander does have hope for Buffy. He has no hope of getting out of the arena, he knows that, but he also knows  _ she  _ does. Buffy is strong and quick and smart and he thinks that she has a chance. Xander knows Dawn, he usually sees her when the junior school needs something fixed and they ask him to do it. She’s sweet and funny and a lot like Buffy and it makes Xander want to lose, if only for the reason that she gets to stay a kid without a dead family member. Xander knows that blood is different, that it’s thicker than water or whatever, but Jesse was his best friend and there is a part of Xander that doesn’t exist anymore because it was the part that Jesse got. Xander doesn’t want anyone to lose their Jesse and if he gets his own death out of the deal, maybe that’s a win-win. 

So he’s trying not to hold his breath as the two men on the screen work their way through the Districts. The one that catches his eye is Amanda, the young girl who stole one of the careers’ crossbows during training. She gets a seven, which isn’t the highest out of the possible twelve, but considering her youth and the fact that she’s from District Eleven, it’s quite an accomplishment. He wonders what she might’ve done in her training session and figures she was pretty feisty just against the beanbags in the room, so she probably has some rage she can grasp onto.

All his own rage seems useless now. He doesn’t want to be angry at Willow anymore, not when his love for her keeps screaming to him that he might never see her again. He knows it won’t be as bad for him this time but he’s eighteen, and though that explains a lot of his dumber decisions, he  _ is _ smart enough to be aware that there is more to the story than Willow dumping him to become a Capitol celebrity. When he dies in the arena, his rage will have been for nothing. All Willow will be left with of their little Twelve family will be a singed house foundation and four graves. He doesn’t need his anger anymore, not the way that she probably needs her memories. 

So, when Willow comes into the main room where he sits in the center of a loveseat, surrounded by Buffy, Giles and Cordy in different chairs, he moves over, an open invitation to anything she needs. Even if his anger bristles at the obvious brightening of her eyes at the offer as she quickly accepts it. If she just  _ talked to him _ , if she just came back to Twelve and didn’t hide away in the Capitol-insert and just didn’t  _ abandon him _ until they ran into each other at the funeral of the boy they both called brother, maybe she wouldn’t have to wait for such simple offers as sitting next to him to be that exciting.

But it’s okay, he’s letting it go. Your life will follow you into your death, and all that barely comforting crap.

Willow does sit next to him. Her arms rest awkwardly by her sides as she tries not to overstep. Giles looks at the two of them and definitely doesn’t have to hold back from laughing at the two of their clearly uncomfortable faces. He remembers being their age and emotionally stunted from the trauma of the Hunger Games, but it is still quite funny from this side of the glass. 

His attention is turned to the television as Clem finishes questioning Caleb about Amanda and they move on to his tributes. The room tenses as Clem says, “Xander Harris…” 

Xander tries not to hold his breath. He doesn’t have to try for long as Clem says, “A five.”

He cringes, Amanda is twelve years old and scored higher. But Cordelia lets out an enthusiastic sigh as she congratulates him and the five of them listen as Caleb talks about why Xander got the number he got, Xander knows he’s pulling it out of his ass but doesn’t mention that to his mentors or Cordelia. It passes eventually and Xander gets to brew in his embarrassment alone as the room focuses on Buffy.

Clem’s voice sounds a little different as he says, “And the last tribute of the night, Buffy Summers…”

Excitedly he says, “A twelve!!”

Both Willow and Giles stare wide-eyed at the screen and then turn to each other, they both heard from different sources about what exactly Buffy did in her testing, neither of them would’ve been surprised if she earned a zero. Buffy is also staring wide-eyed at the screen until Cordy breaks it with a squeal. “!!! You’re going to do so well.”

Though the number sparks hope in Willow’s heart, she knows better than to trust a good number from Caleb. She imagines this twelve is written like a bright red bullseye on Buffy’s back. Still, she lets the moment remain exciting as the five of them chatter with excitement. Giles smirks at Buffy as he pats her on the shoulder. “You’re lucky the Gamemakers saw that as bravery and not stupidity.”

Buffy laughs. “Trust me, it felt pretty stupid.”

Cordy leaves the room for a moment and then returns with five tubes of bright coloured liquid, something that Willow and Giles both recognize as alcohol. “Um, Cordy, they’re only eighteen.”

Cordy shrugs off Willow’s complaint, “So? Today is a good day, and that means celebration. No one can see us.”

Giles coughs and points his eyes towards the couple Avoxes at the entrances of the room. Cordy rolls her eyes. “Well  _ they  _ can’t exactly tell anyone.”

Willow’s eyes widen at Cordy’s tactlessness but the one of the Avoxes at the main entrance cracks a small smile at her comment. Cordy hands out the drinks and the five of them cheers to hope, though neither Willow nor Xander feel much of it.

  
  


*

_ Willow is trying not to vomit. She can feel Buffy Summer’s hand in hers grip tighter as Cordelia Chase finishes speaking, “-berg.” _

_ She tries to ignore the yell she hears. Tries to pretend that she can’t see Xander being an idiot out of the corner of her eye. Tries to pretend she doesn’t hear the devastating crack as a Peacekeeper slams his shield into Xander’s head. She watches as Xander falls and Jesse goes to back him up. A Peacekeeper has approached her now and she feels the hand in hers slip away to be replaced with a strong push from the white suits surrounding her. She doesn’t turn to the back rows of parents, she doesn’t want to be reminded that her parents didn’t care enough to stay. She doesn’t want to see the McNally’s who know why her name was in the bowl enough times to get picked. Not when she knows they won’t tell Xander and Jesse.  _

_ She stares forward instead, focusing on the man in his forties who seems much closer to 100 by the way he seems weighed down. Willow thinks it’s funny that she’s heard his name probably thousands of times, he’s the lone surviving Victor in Twelve, and she still can’t remember it. She hears Ms. Calendar talk about him nearly every time she sees her and all that’s coming up is glasses. The Peacekeepers shove her off to Cordelia Chase and she leads the rest of the way to the center of the stage. Willow tries not to stare at Cordelia’s unnaturally indigo eyes. At Cordelia’s tight and irritated smile as she turns back to the crowd, Willow guesses that she’s failed. _

_ Willow doesn’t know what to do now. Her pants don’t have pockets and her arms feel like they’ll float away if she doesn’t hold them down. She clasps them in front of her as Cordelia moves on to the Capitol’s next victim and the crowd groans as another young person is reaped. Not that there’s anyone old that gets reaped, but it’s rare that both tributes are under fifteen. Andrew Wells, a boy in the grade above her but in the same math class as her, humbles towards the stage and Willow gasps as she feels a pinch at her wrists. Staring down to where her hand was clenching, she sees the crescent moon prints of her fingernails digging in and spots the cause as she moves her fingers to view some sprouting blood. Not enough to actively bleed, but enough that her sweat from the hot day is making the wounds burn. _

_ Andrew arrives at the stage fine and Willow spots Tucker Wells in the crowd, an eighteen year old, and Andrew’s brother. Willow sees him stare ahead as if he’s buffering and wonders if he has registered his brother’s death sentence at all. Cordelia has her shake Andrew’s hand and Willow does, staring into his eyes and seeing the fear and disbelief she feels mirrored there. She looks out at the crowd once more and her eyes fall back to Tucker, a boy that she knows is Andrew’s brother, and focuses on his unfocused eyes. Anything to avoid Xander whose yells she can hear grow further or Jesse whose eyes she knows are too wet from the moment she’d paused to look at him while he stopped Xander from doing something more stupid. Her final thought before Cordelia pulls her and Andrew both backstage to their rooms is that she’ll miss the two of them. _

*

The main room of the District Twelve penthouse is empty aside from its tributes after the excitement of the days events have worn off. Xander clears his throat from next to Buffy, “You, uh, you have a cat right?”

He takes Buffy’s confused looks as accusing, “Just, I’ve seen Dawn playing with it when I’ve walked by your house before.”

Buffy still looks confused as she says “Yes? Why?”

Xander understands the confusion now. “Oh!” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a light brown object that Buffy can’t distinguish. “Here.” 

Buffy takes it from him and at closer glance realizes its a well made, if not rushed, wooden carving of a cat. She recognizes the remaining wood as the bat he was toying with during training over the past few days. Eyes widening at the result, she looks over to Xander. “This is really good! How did you make it so fast?”

Xander shrugs. “Dad used to run a woodworking shop before he needed to make more money and headed to the mines and he keeps all the old supplies in our shed. It’s a good way to spend time.”

Buffy nods, turning the wood in her hands and trying to keep her mind off of her warm bed at home with her little sister and annoying cat. “But how did you make it in the training room?”

Xander just shakes his head. “Well, I used one of the blunt sticks for the wood and I used the head of that spear you broke and a few of the axes and knives.”

Buffy furrows her brows. “And no one caught you.”

Xander laughs, “No, they were too busy with their own training or watching the girl from Twelve slowly work towards scoring a twelve to pay attention to a non-threatening guy whittling away in the corner.”

Buffy smiles at him and considers a different life where maybe their lives aren’t actively in jeopardy and instead of being forced to talk because of mutual death sentences they’re just friends because he seems like a nice guy. But, unfortunately for them and any future bonds, their friendship has an expiration date. “Thank you, Xander.”

He looks down to hide his blush. “No problem. Gave me an excuse not to really do anything in training.”

Buffy notices the odd hitch in his voice but doesn’t think anything of it. Xander clears his throat, “Well, uh, I guess I’ll be getting to bed.”

Buffy nods. “Goodnight.”

Xander just nods as he waves over his shoulder and leaves Buffy alone as she tries not to think about where she’ll be in two days' time.


	5. know that it's not built to last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all, unfortunately school, work, and the hot disgusting heat of the summer have started to try and end my life so updates might be a little more sparse but I am still going to try and aim for once a week or twice every two weeks. hope u enjoy :)

Buffy is looking down at her hands as she smooths the red dress Lorne made for her over her stomach. Willow and Giles had reminded both her and Xander over and over again to not pay attention to the interviews that come before them. Willow says they shouldn’t because it humanizes their opponents and Buffy knows that Willow knows their opponents are human, but she wonders if it’ll be easier or harder to humanize them after she actually has killed them. Buffy doesn’t want to humanize them, not when she knows she’ll have to kill them just to see her sister again. And she’s accepted that, whatever cost she has to pay to keep her shamble family intact is one she is willing to pay. She won’t let her mom or her sister lose someone else they love, especially when she knows Dawn will blame herself if Buffy doesn’t make it out.

Xander focuses more on why Giles had warned against paying attention to the interviews that come before them, he insisted that all the tributes lie in their answers, they go for charismatic and pity inducing in the hopes it will up their chances of survival. So, even if what they say humanizes them, it’s also probably a lie. Xander isn’t worrying as much about the other tributes, he knows he won’t be killing them, he’s more worried about what that implies about how he’ll have to answer Clem’s questions. He’s a bad liar, and by bad he means can't-keep-a-surprise-party a-secret bad. He doesn’t want to tell an audience of thousands things that he wouldn’t even tell his own parents. He doesn’t want to turn bright red and have the audience know he’s lying either, that would blow any hope of sponsorship from the Capitol people and that’s kind of the only hope he has of ever helping Buffy get home. 

Side by side, in a matching red dress and a red accented suit, the both of them peer onto the stage where Amanda is sitting. Buffy is stricken by how little she looks. The chairs on the stage are large anyway, even Clem has to perch on the edge for his feet to stay planted on the floor, but Amanda is young and gangly like everyone from a district under District Ten and so the large chair looks like it could swallow her. Buffy thinks of Dawn the day her father left. 

It wasn’t sudden, her mom kept telling them that he would be leaving but neither of them believed her. He was their Dad, it didn’t make sense that he would trade their family so he could go be a Capitol soldier. But he did, and the three of them were left behind. Buffy remembers the grief she felt when he left, but more so she remembers her rage at him for leaving Dawn who cried for days after he left. She sat on the chair behind the shop counter in their Mom’s antique shop wrapped in her blanket and she looked so  _ small _ . Buffy tries not to hate her father, but she does sometimes. She knows she’s not supposed to hate the Capitol but looking at the anxiety in Amanda’s eyes on the stage and remembering Dawn’s tears when they stole her childhood, she does.

Xander likes Amanda, he watched the way the twelve year old spent most of training staring adoringly at Buffy, and he really gets why Buffy likes her, even if she hasn’t explicitly stated it. But Amanda is funny and brave enough to steal a career’s bow during the training sessions and Xander wasn’t paying attention to her words but whatever the girl says makes the whole audience laugh and Amanda blushes. There’s something about her that seems familiar, even though he knows there’s nothing. He figures she just has one of those faces, but the way she uses her hair to curtain her face in embarrassment reminds him of pre-Games Willow. Maybe that’s why he automatically liked her, but maybe that’s kind of a douche thing to do. He’s had a lot of people in the mines treat him like his Dad just because he looks like him and maybe that’s a little different because there’s the whole genetics thing, but comparison is shitty. So, reminding him of Willow and reminding Buffy of Dawn or not, she seems pretty cool anyway, for a twelve year old at least.

Xander starts playing with the dark red cufflinks on his suit as he listens to Amanda’s interview come to an end. The girl jumps down from the chair to the rousing applause of the large audience and then walks back stage. Xander smiles at her as she passes and she bumps her shoulder against his. “Good luck.” In a quieter whisper she adds, “You can barely see the audience because of all of the lights, you’ll be okay.”

Xander nods and thanks her. Just as he steps forward to take his seat as Clem introduces him, but a hand around his own stops him for a moment. He turns to see Buffy, trying to kill him by smiling at him like that. She says, “You’ll do great.” 

And for the seconds that her smile lasts before he has to turn back towards the stage, he believes her. But then he has to go on stage and if he could let himself get lost in the noise of the applause and Clem excitedly saying, “District Twelve’s male tribute, Alexander Harris!” Then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but he gets stuck looking into the bright light that follows him as he walks over to the chair and tries to gracefully fall into it.

Clem laughs at his attempts. “Now, Alexander, how has your experience here in the Capitol been so far?”

Xander scrunches his nose up at the name. “Xander,” He says, and then stares at Clem as Clem stares back for one beat too long. “Sorry, I go by Xander, not Alexander.”

Clem shakes his head and laughs off the silence from the audience. “No problem then, Xander. Now about your stay…”

Xander lightly jumps in his seat. “Oh, sorry! It’s been pretty cool. You guys have so many lights at night, it's barely night at all.”

Clem tilts his head at the statement. “Sorry?”

Xander shakes his head. “That wasn’t an insult, it’s just, in Twelve when it gets dark, it’s nearly pitch black. I mean, you can barely see your own hand in front of you outside. But here, I can see for miles at night, and there’s so many colours. It’s kind of awesome, actually.”

Clem hums as a few chuckles disperse from the audience. Backstage Giles audibly groans, looking over at Willow he says, “You could’ve warned me that he was going to be worse at this than you.”

Willow just glares back at his smirk.

*

_ Andrew is coughing next to her as they stand, ready to get onto the horse-drawn cart. Willow assumes it’s just Andrew being Andrew but she still looks over and is shocked as she sees his face swelling, the dark contacts that Lorne and Darla have forced onto the both of them are surrounded by very wet and reddening eyes. Willow gasps, “Andrew, what’s wrong?” _

_ Andrew laughs as he tries to clear his throat. “I think I might be allergic to the contacts.” _

_ Willow steps towards him, reaching her hands towards his eyes. Andrew flinches, “Owwww!” _

_ Willow rolls her eyes at him. “I haven’t even touched you yet, dummy.” _

_ Andrew shrugs. “It was a preparation groan.” _

_ Willow snorts and goes back to her task. “Okay, keep your eyes wide open.” _

_ He does and Willow takes out the first contact, scrunching her nose up at the wet feeling of it. Just as she does that, Darla walks up. “What the hell are you two doing?” _

_ At the pair’s wide-eyed looks, Darla continues, “Do you know how hard it was to make black contacts that cover your entire eyes? You cannot take them out, they pull together the entire look.” _

_ She either doesn’t see or doesn’t care about the state of Andrew’s face. Though as he walks up from behind Darla, Lorne does. “Andrew, darling! What happened to your face?” _

_ Darla both physically and socially backs up. Andrew shrugs, now embarrassed under their attention. Willow speaks for him. “He’s allergic to the contacts, I was trying to get both of them out before Darla started getting mad at us.” _

_ Lorne looks over at Darla as if to say, ‘what the hell?’ Taking Willow’s place in front of Andrew, he takes out the remaining contact much more quickly and painlessly than Willow had. Andrew smiles through his red and blotchy face. Lorne smiles back, “Better, right?” _

_ Andrew laughs. “Definitely.”  _

_ Lorne pats him on the shoulder. “Good.” Looking over to Darla, he says,“I think the black hair - black clothes combo will be good enough, even without the contacts. Don’t you?” _

_ At Darla’s nod Lorne helps Willow take out her contacts. Gesturing to Darla, he says, “Can you go grab a medic before they head out. Just to make sure Andy here will survive the minutes in the cart.” _

_ Darla gives him an affirmative and rushes off. _

_ Willow plays with her painted hair, hating the stiff feeling of it in her hands. “Are you sure this will come out? I like my hair.” _

_ Lorne laughs, “Of course, I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that hair, it’s the nicest I’ve dealt with in years. Obviously, I think it would be nicer if it was  _ shorter _ but…” _

_ Willow shakes her head firmly. “You can’t cut it shorter than you already have.” _

_ Lorne sighs. “You would look much more adult.” _

_ Willow, with a glare she hasn’t yet perfected but will soon, says, “I’m a kid. I don’t want to look more adult.” _

_ Lorne just hums and gestures for them to get into the cart. “I know that, that’s what we’re counting on.” _

_ Andrew huffs. “Right, we’re both about to die but as long as we look creepy enough that the Capitol feels bad it’s okay.” He furrows his eyebrows, “How are you even going to explain that when they ask about you’re inspiration.” _

_ Lorne beams, sarcastically. “Well you’re both supposed to look like coal, of course.” _

_ Willow snorts at his sarcasm and Lorne rolls his eyes, “Listen, I’ve heard the two of you practicing for your interviews, you’re going to need all the help you can get.” _

_ Both Willow and Andrew blush at this but neither retort as Darla returns with a medic, who - after asking several questions about why Lorne was putting chemicals Willow can’t remember the name of in the eyes of children - declared that Andrew was safe to continue. They both shuffle off into their cart and Lorne sits back, pleased as he hears the disgruntled gasps of the Capitol citizens at the sight of Twelve’s tributes. Lorne lets the pride bloom in his chest until he catches Snyder’s dark and threatening eyes, a promise of punishment through the screen.  _

*

Willow, after doing her best not to, focuses back on Xander’s interview, knowing it must be nearing its end. She watches as Xander fiddles with a band Darla adorned on his wrist and Clem asks his final question. “So, Xander, you’re eighteen, you’re quite handsome as well…” Xander blushes at the compliment as Clem continues, “Is there someone special at home? A girlfriend or a boyfriend maybe?”

Xander laughs and shakes his head, more comfortable on stage once the first few awkward moments had passed. “No, no special friends of any kind.”

Clem nods. “Well, then, anyone special who you would be interested in if you make it out of these Games and get to go home?”

Though he doesn’t want to, something inside him compels him to tell the truth, so he does. “Clem, there is. But I don’t think it would work.”

Clem shakes his head, his eyes squinting as he asks, “Now why is that?”

Xander looks over towards the back stage and Willow knows what words are coming before she hears them. Xander looks at his hands as he says, “I don’t think it’ll work because she’s going into the Games with me.”

As the audience breaks into gasps and applause, Clem ends the interview, announcing Xander’s name one more time and gesturing him off the stage. To the left of her, Willow hears a whispered,  _ “What!?” _ Come from Buffy before Lorne started correcting the final pieces of her dress and pushing her forward. 

As Xander walks off the stage back towards them, Willow can tell he is trying to walk fast enough to avoid them. He manages to avoid Buffy who is already being pushed towards the entrance as Clem introduces her, but Giles manages to grab his arm before he escapes. Giles looks at him, eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you said you didn’t want to follow through with the romance angle, I mean -”

But Xander shakes off Giles’ hand, saying nothing as he rushes past Willow to escape from the night’s event. Willow’s eyes follow him, a truth that she considered a possibility but now has been rooted as the actual situation emerges. Xander has feelings for Buffy and Xander had no intention of mentioning them in that interview, or at all before he died.

She catches Giles’s eyes after a moment and the two of them rush to a quieter space, each sending a silent hope that Buffy can keep it together better than her partner had just moments ago. When they arrive in the wide hallway, empty of anyone but avoxes, Giles sighs, “Did you know?”

Willow shakes her head. “No, I mean, he had a crush on her when we were kids but I figured he grew out of it.”

Giles groans exasperatedly, “ _ Willow _ .”

Willow’s eyes widen. “What? I’m sorry that I didn’t base my understanding of him on the feelings he had at twelve years old because at twelve I had a crush on  _ him _ and that proved to be, uh, inaccurate, to say the least.”

Giles shakes his head. “This isn’t the time for jokes, Willow, this is serious.”

Willow furrows her eyebrows.“What? Giles one of them - at the least, might I add - is going to die anyway, why does it matter if the feelings that Xander has are real or fake?”

Giles is stern as he takes off his glasses. “If he goes into that arena focused on his feelings he might get both himself and Buffy killed. If you just tried using your brain for one  _ ounce _ of a second, we could’ve prevented this.”

Willow cuts him off, “Giles, this isn’t you and Jenny, there is no  _ preventing this _ !”

At his silence and the look on his face, Willow immediately back tracks. “Giles, I’m sorry.”

He offers no response, just nods and then walks back through the door to the backstage area. Willow groans and rubs a hand over her face.

*

_ Giles is fiddling with the glasses he keeps in his pockets, broken and worn but still useful when he needs to read or distinguish his surroundings. Neither he nor his father can afford to replace them, so he only uses them when absolutely necessary so that he can at least use them occasionally instead of not at all. He’s fiddling with his glasses and ignoring the peacekeeper he can distinguish through the crack in the door ahead of him. He doubts his father will come, he is likely busy helping the mayor prepare for the screening of the games. His dead mother isn’t a likely visitor either, but the door cracks open wider and he spots a familiar grin and warm brown eyes. _

_ “ _ Jenny…” _ He doesn’t know what else to say. He told her he wouldn’t leave her over and over again, and here they were saying goodbye. _

_ Jenny smirks at him, though her eyes give away the grief that is playing at her heart. “Rupert, if you even try to say goodbye right now, I’ll kill you before the bastards in the Capitol get a chance.” _

_ Giles laughs at her, a choking wetness in his throat that they both ignore. She’s his best friend, and he’s supposed to tell her how much she matters in five minutes. It’s not fair, and he hates everyone except her, smiling at him even though he can tell she would rather cry. He wants more time to do stupid things with her, like admit that he’s been in love with her since she started making fun of him in their technology classes, or that he really doesn’t mind computers that much anymore, he just says the things he does so he can watch her forehead crinkle and hear her voice change as she rants at him. _

_ He’s never going to have her rant at him again. _

_ Or, maybe he will. “Rupert, if you don’t stop looking at me like you’re about to admit your poorly hidden feelings for me, I’m going to leave. You don’t get to act like you’re subtle at all for three years and then finally tell me that you’re in love with me before you enter an arena where you have to fight twenty three other kids.” _

_ Caught, Giles blushes as he stares wide-eyed at Jenny. He offers no response. Jenny’s smirk turns to a sweet smile. “I love you, too. For what it’s worth.” _

_ Giles clears his throat, rubbing his arm past his eyes. “It’s worth a lot.” _

_ Jenny tilts her head. “Enough to come back?” _

_ Giles chuckles. He looks at her hopefully. “Enough to try.” _

_ Jenny raises her eyebrows as the silence grows around them. “Are you going to kiss me? Because I’m a pretty good kisser and I think you would regret it a lot if you died and didn’t -” _

_ Giles kisses her. It’s not like he has imagined it. He’s kissed a lot of people and he’s thought about kissing Jenny at least twice as many times, but he doesn’t expect the softness of it. Because the kiss is desperate like the goodbye it will likely end up being, but it’s also slow and sure, like this was the only end to the route they have been on for the years they’ve known each other. She’s his best friend, and every promise he’s made to her so far has been a promise to still be here for her, no matter what happens. It’s out of his hands now, and as the peacekeeper knocks on the door and opens it, they separate. Jenny smiles once more at him, the grief in her eyes leaking onto her cheeks. Any other time, Giles would tease her but given his own mirrored state, he gives her a pass. Smiling back at her, he says, “I won’t leave you without a fight.” _

_ Jenny nods and the door behind her closes and Giles is left alone.  _

  
*

  
The four of them walk back to the elevator leading to the penthouse. After the combination of Xander’s interview and Willow and Giles’ tift afterwards, an awkward silence permeates every interaction that could happen between the four of them. Luckily, Buffy’s interview had been simple, Clem only asked one question about Xander and Buffy was able to turn it into her showing off her apparently burning dress. The audience ate it up and Buffy didn’t have to stumble over figuring out if she is supposed to pretend to reciprocate Xander’s feelings or not. 

But the silence isn’t great, and none of them are excited to get back to the room where Cordelia and Lorne will be high in energy and probably have questions about the romance thing and Xander wishes he could’ve just kept his stupid mouth shut. The other three wouldn’t exactly disagree with that wish, but Giles gets it. He remembers being eighteen and in love and stuck in interviews and training and arenas. In the elevator, the doors start to close until a hand stops them. Faith slides in between them to stand in front of the team from Twelve and she smirks. “Well, this certainly doesn’t feel awkward.”

Willow snorts at the comment and ignores the way that Giles glares at her. Faith doesn’t. “Jeez, Red. What’d you do? Get his glasses dirty?”

Giles doesn’t offer a reply and Willow knows she can’t explain in front of Buffy and Xander so she just shrugs. Faith catches on and chuckles, “Ah… I see we will be avoiding the question today.”

Faith shrugs and turns her attention to the other occupants of the lift. Looking at Xander she says, “What about you, man? Confessing feelings on national television, you’ve got some balls.”

Willow rolls her eyes at Faith and Faith catches it. “What, like you would, Will?”

At the raised eyebrows and wide eyes she gets in response, Faith knowingly back pedals. She turns back to Xander. “Now, I think we both know  _ she _ isn’t interested in you, but I could show you a good time if you -”

Giles clears his throat. “Faith, it’s not the time.”

Faith snorts and puts up her hands. “Okay, G-man.” 

The elevator dings and Faith steps off. “See the two of you at the viewing, see you two…” She tilts her head. “Probably never again.”

Willow rolls her eyes at the brunette. Buffy turns to Willow, “I’m sorry, she’s the girl who you say isn’t that bad?”

Willow shifts under Buffy’s eyes. “She isn’t. At least she isn’t most of the time.”

*

_ All Faith can think about is how District Twelve is warmer than it seems it should be. She knows that Seven is a little far from Twelve, but she figured since they’re both filled with forests, that Twelve would be filled with the same breezes and chills as her home. But it isn’t, it’s wet in Twelve, and humid, when she was walking to the stage for her speech her feet were sinking into the dirt trails. The weather of Twelve isn’t important at all. It’s definitely not important when the only reason she is here experiencing it is because the Capitol shoved her into an arena to be killed. _

_ Nothing is really that important now. Her family is gone, she was dumb and naive when she came out of the Games a Victor. She spent her entire Victor’s interview complaining about the Games and for the two days that there were no consequences, it was a cathartic release, but then her parent’s bodies were found within days of each other. And she still didn’t learn. She did it again when one of the Capitol’s tabloids interviewed her and she explained her theory about Capitol officials killing her parents. It had been met with skepticism, obviously. But then her little brother was found dead too, and then her sister. By the time she started her victory tour, there was only one person she loved left. Now, at her last stop in the tour, there isn’t anyone left. She misses her family, and her boyfriend, and being a kid, and not having to stare into the eyes of parents whose children she has murdered. She misses not being a murderer.  _

_ Twelve is too warm and wet and her clothes stick to her body, but it has its perks. One of them, for example, is that she hasn’t killed anyone from this district. She doesn’t have to worry about the parents stepping off their pedestals to try and attack her, which she deserves. She doesn’t have to worry about peacekeepers slamming their shields and batons into the heads and necks of those parents either. She also doesn’t really know anyone in Twelve, she knows Giles and Willow, mostly just in name. So, she doesn’t have to worry about finding their bodies swinging from ropes in her dressing room.  _

_ Faith’s personal favourite perk of Twelve, is the way that they seem almost forgotten by the Capitol aside from the Victor’s Village and the presence of the peacekeepers. Like right now, she is sitting on the tallest building in the District, barely tall at all, but certainly a fall that would end in death, and she can’t see the familiar reflection of the small squares that indicate a force field. In Twelve, escape seems possible, it seems encouraged even. Why else would she be able to get up to this roof of the building that Victors always stay in if the Capitol didn’t want her to take this chance? _

_ She stands, rubbing her sweaty hands on the jeans that she had begged her stylist to allow her to wear. In the heat she regrets it, but at least on the steps to her death she still looks like her. Her opponents in the arena didn’t injure her enough to change her face, and she hasn’t fallen into the full grasp of the Capitol’s styles so all of her parts remain their natural colours. She looks down at the ground from her position above and notes that even the peacekeepers here seem different, she can spot a small group of vending stalls and she sees the peacekeepers smiling at the vendors as they interact. In Seven the peacekeepers only smile when they’re beating the citizens. But that’s not important, what’s important is that the peacekeepers are busy, and Forrest is inside and no one will see when she steps off the ledge.  _

_ A voice calls out from behind her, startling her. “Don’t.” _

_ Faith flinches as she turns, sending herself tripping closer over the edge, her heels dangling and the redhead rushes towards her. “Jeez, okay…”  _

_ Willow grabs Faith’s arms and pulls her back fully onto the solid roof. Faith stares wide-eyed at her. “Please don’t tell anyone.” _

_ Willow snorts humourlessly. “I don’t exactly come on this roof to rat out people who want to die.” _

_ Faith shakes her head. “I don’t…” _

_ Willow exaggeratedly nods. “Right, okay, the Capitol has killed your entire family and you’re doing great.” _

_ Faith tilts her head. “You believe me?” _

_ Willow smirks and raises her eyebrows. “I don’t need to believe you when you’re the second round of a war the Capitol has been waging on me for a few years.” _

_ Faith’s face scrunches up, a small v forming between her eyebrows. “What?” _

_ Willow shoves her hands into her pockets. “You aren’t the first victor to be enough of an idiot to warrant people you love being killed by the Capitol. My parents are dead, and my friend and his family, and you know Oz, he was your mentor. All dead, all my fault.” _

_ Faith nods, tilting her head into her shoulder to wipe away tears. “The Capitol is a piece of shit.” _

_ Willow laughs jarringly. “You’ve got that right.” _

_ Faith smirks joylessly and then looks back to the edge. “I don’t… I’m just tired of having no control. I don’t actually want to be dead, it’s just…” _

_ Willow shrugs. “But it would be a choice, wouldn’t it? The Capitol chooses who gets to live and who we love and what we do for the rest of our lives. Why can’t we choose to step off the only building in the country that would kill us?” _

_ Faith furrows her brow and just shrugs back. Willow sniffs. “They don’t get to kill everyone we love and us too, Faith. They’ve won every other battle, they don’t get this one. I mean, it hurts and it sucks and there is no one left who  _ knew  _ you before you were a Victor, but you don’t have anything left to lose, that means you get to keep fighting and they have no way left to punish you without getting in trouble with their citizens.” _

_ Faith nods and takes a couple steps towards the door back into the building and Willow passes her, grabbing her arm. “You’re not going back in there, you're coming with me to go visit Giles and have a good time on the last night of your tour.” _

_ Faith looks scared. “Giles doesn’t exactly seem like the good time type.” _

_ Willow snorts, still pulling Faith along. “He has scotch.” _

_ Faith laughs and finally lets a genuine smile form on her face. “Sounds good enough for me.”  _

_ * _

Xander is playing with his hands as he sits next to Buffy in the living room. The adults went to one of the bedrooms to discuss how they were going to play the confession he made to the entire nation. Their discussion has turned into something else and he tries not to compare it to his hours spent in the basement at home, but it kind of sounds like it. He can’t make out what’s being said but Willow, Giles, and Cordy are all quite passionate about it. He occasionally hears breaks in the conversation and assumes it’s either Darla or Lorne stepping into the conversation. He shifts in his discomfort and says, “I’m sorry about this.”

Buffy turns next to him. “Huh?”

Xander gestures widely. “This whole thing, them yelling, me admitting my feelings for you on stage, getting you into this mess.”

Buffy scrunches up her nose and shakes her head. “It’s okay, the three of them yelling is better than us having to pretend to understand half the dumb stuff they talk about, right?”

Xander laughs dryly, though he would admit that he definitely understands her sentiment. “Still, I’m sorry about the feelings thing.”

Buffy shrugs. “It’s not like you can help your feelings, Xander.”

Xander tilts his head from side to side. “I probably could’ve helped by not saying them to the whole nation.”

Buffy laughs. “Yea, probably.” 

Xander laughs with her for a moment before they both calm down. Buffy clears her throat. “Xander, you know…”

He cuts her off, “That you have a boyfriend who you love? Yeah, I didn’t admit my feelings because I thought you reciprocated them, I just wanted to tell the truth before I died.”

Buffy smiles at him. “I definitely understand that.”

At Xander’s nod, she changes the topic. “So the Tricks wood carving, was that a romantic thing?”

Xander furrows his eyebrows. “Tricks?”

Buffy clarifies, “Tricks is my cat.”

Xander’s face clears in understanding. “Oh! No, that was a combination of genuine boredom and caring about you since we have our shared death sentence.”

Buffy laughs. “If I didn’t have Angel…”

Xander snorts, “You would still be  _ well _ out of my league.”

Buffy shakes her head but doesn’t say anything. Xander changes the subject to avoid dealing with the burning he feels growing in his cheeks. “So, Tricks is a weird name.”

Buffy glares at him good-heartedly. “Okay,  _ Xander.” _

Xander laughs. “Why’d you name him that?”

Buffy smiles, thinking about Dawn excitedly fawning over the new cat. “I found  _ her  _ on the road and brought her home and Dawn was trying to figure out if she knew any tricks. She wouldn’t do any, but whenever Dawn said ‘do a trick’, she would stare at her like she almost knew what she was saying. We figured Tricks was probably her name.”

Xander nods his head. “And you didn’t think she could have an  _ actual  _ name like Trixie, or something?”

Buffy’s eyes widen as she realizes that Tricks’ name is almost definitely actually Trixie. Not willing to admit defeat, she says, “Tricks  _ is _ an actual name.”

Xander grin, revenge in his eyes. “Okay,  _ Buffy _ .”

Buffy squints at him and hits him with a nearby throw pillow and the both of them start laughing until they are broken up by the hard opening of a door. They both turn to see Giles backed up by Willow and Cordy. “We have a plan.”


End file.
